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EMMANUEL 




THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH 


BY V 

WILLIAM FORBES COOLEY 

' \ 


“And they shall call His name Emmanuel, which being interpreted is, 
God with us.” — Matt. I. 23. 



DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY 

1889 




Copyright, 1889, 

By DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY. 
All rights reserved 


P B X 8 OF 

anb C^nrclIrUl 


BOSTON 


A Child is born. 

Unto us a Son is given ; 

And the govern7nent shall be upon His shoulder 
Afid His name shall be called 
IVdnderfid, Coimsellor, Mighty God, 
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace P 


I 


> 


PEEFACE 


T his book is an attempt to depict the life of our Lord 
in narrative form. Its character is given in the 
sub-title ; it is an attempt at a story, rather than a 
critical biography, of the Christ. It is written in the 
earnest hope that some of that vast number of Christians 
who, for one reason or another, do not read — connectedly 
at any rate — the more learned recitals of Jesus’ career, 
may gain from these pages a clearer understanding of 
the life of lives. 

Its aim is historical, not theological. It is written with- 
out dogmatic impulse, unless, indeed, the motive acknowl- 
edged by the beloved desciple (John xx. 31) be such. 
It is to be considered an effort to write that men may 
“ believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God.” But 
the book is not put forward in the interest of any theory, 
dogma, or set of dogmas, in relation to the nature and 
work of Jesus of Nazareth. By this, however, it is not 
at all meant that the writer is without theological prepos- 
sessions, — an impossibility for any one who has studied 
the life of Jesus sufficiently to recount it. These pages 
have been written from the standpoint of the Nicene 
formula ; but not, it should be added, from that of certain 
very common inferences from, and additions to, that 
famous symbol. I cannot think that those who teach 
that there was a virtual dual personality in the Christ, — 


VI 


PBEFACE. 


a Jesus of Nazareth and a divine Subsistence joined yet — 
distinct, — present to us any real incarnation of God at all. 
Such a manifestation of the Deity would seem more in the 
nature of a theophany than an incarnation, more an 
appearance in the flesh than a becoming flesh. Nor can I 
think that the theory accounts for the facts as they are re- 
corded in the Gospels, or harmonizes with utterances of 
inspired teachers such as Phil. ii. 5-11. The position 
taken in these pages is, that when “ the Word became 
flesh ” He subjected Himself for a season to human limita- 
tions, and lived and died, in the form of Jesus of Naza- 
reth, in all essential respects a genuine man. Sin is not 
essential to real humanity — far from it ; condition, limita- 
tion, is essential. 

I said that this is not a critical biography of our Lord ; 
neither is it a historical novel. The thread of fiction run- 
ning through it is only a thread, — a cord to which to 
attach, and by which to join, narratives which, in lack of 
some such bond, must remain more or less disconnected. 

Probably no extended list of authorities will be expected 
in a work of this character ; but, as I am under special 
obligation to Dr. Cunningham Geikie and Dr. Alfred 
Edersheim for their scholarly lives of Christ, to Dr. 
Frederick Gardiner for his “ Harmony of the Four Gos- 
pels,” and to Dr. W. M. Thomson for his work on the 
Holy Land, it seems but right that I should mention them. 

It only remains to add that the volume now submitted to 
the reader is quite independent as to its inception ; not 
till many of these pages had been penned did I learn of 
other works more or less similar in aim and form. 

W. F. C. 


Elmhurst, III., 1889. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER 


I. 

The Herald Angel.s . 

• 

• 

1 

II. 

The Infant Lord in the Temple 

. 


. 23 

III. 

The Gentiles come to His Light 



. 39 

IV. 

Dark Days at Bethlehem 



. 57 

V. 

Jewish Youth in David’s Town 



. 65 

VI. 

The Boy Christ in His Father’s 

House 

. 83 

VII. 

The Leper in Israel . 



. 98 

VIII. 

The Usurer 



. 112 

IX. 

The Herald of the Kingdom . 



. 137 

X. 

Tempted like as we are . 



. 155 

XI. 

First Citizens of the Kingdom 



. 165 

XII. 

The Messiah as Reformer 



. 174 

XIII. 

From Jud^a to Galilee . 



. 187 

XIV. 

Surrender without Conditions 



. 203 

XV. 

The Lake of Sacred Story 



. 216 

XVI. 

Hope for the Hopeless . 



. 230 

XVII. 

Jesus and the Sabbath 

• 

• 

. 243 

XVIII. 

The Constitution of the Kingdom 



. 257 


CONTENTS, 


viii 


CHAPTER 

XIX. 

The Flood of the Tide . 



PAGE 

. 275 

XX. 

The Crisis 

• 


. 294 

XXL 

The Heavenly Glory 



. 316 

XXII. 

Farewell to Galilee 



. 330 

XXIII. 

The Feast op Tabernacles 



. 342 

XXIV. 

The Good Shepherd . 



. 367 

XXV. 

The Gospel beyond Jordan 



. 377 

XXVI. 

God Manifest in the Flesh 



. 397 

XXVII. 

The Last Journey to Jerusalem 



. 415 

XXVIII. 

F.\lm Sunday .... 



. 434 

XXIX. 

Judgment and Prophecy . 



. 448 

XXX. 

The Last Supper and Gethsemane 



. 467 

XXXI. 

The King on Trial 



. 489 

XXXII. 

Calvary ..... 



. 513 

XXXIII. 

Emmanuel Triumphant 



. 529 


EMMANUEL; 

THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


CHAPTER I. 

THE IIEKALU ANGELS.' 


Hark, hark, my soul! Angelic songs are swelling 
O’er earth’s green fields and ocean’s wave-beat shore. 

How sweet the truth those blessed strains are telling 
Of that new life when sin shall be no more ! 

Angels of Jesus, angels of light. 

Singing to welcome the pilgrims of the night. 

Faber. 

I T was late in the afternoon of a Syrian winter day. 
Already the terraces and enclosed gardens below the 
walls of Bethlehem were in the shadow, though the* 
sunlight lingered on the ploughed fields in the valley and 
shone brightly over the green hills of the wilderness east- 
ward. Evening being at hand, a number of women in groups 
of twos and threes issued from the north gate of the town, 
each with a water-pot on her shoulder, and gathered around 
the rock-cut well of David, — the well of which that famous 
son of Bethlehem once longed to drink when in hiding in 
the wilderness. 

Most of the women were of the common Jewish type, — 
strong of person, dark of complexion, and, if not over-in- 


1 Luke ii. 1-20. 


2 


EMMANUEL ; 


telligent, certainly rather comely than otherwise in appear- 
ance ; two of them, however, with whom walked a boy of 
some ten years, were of a character to attract special atten- 
tion. Manifestly, from their dress and bearing, as well as 
from the respect shown them, they were of a higher social 
grade than their companions. They wore, indeed, the com- 
mon tunic, — a garment which, in one form or another, 
long or short, with sleeves or without, was then in universal 
use with both sexes and among all classes, — but at the 
wrists only could even the hem of it be seen. Elsewhere it 
was concealed by an upper tunic of ampler and finer char- 
acter, provided with wide, flowing sleeves, which on oc- 
casion could be wrapped around the hands to shield them 
from the chill air or the gaze of the too curious observer. 
While most of the women added to their tunics only a coarse 
shawl of white cotton, — either worn loosely or fastened 
near the middle to the shoulders, and in either case serving 
at once as mantle for the body and turban and veil for the 
head, — the wife and daughter of Salmon Ben-Eliab were 
distinguished by the possession of a tsaniph, or head-dress, 
consisting of a cloth cap with a fine linen veil wrapped 
around it, — a veil decorated with silken embroidery and in- 
woven threads of gold and silver, and terminated behind by 
long flowing ends, pendent over the neck and shoulders. A 
stranger would have noted also that their clothing was of 
purer white than that of their sisters, showing thiit it had 
passed through the hands of an experienced fuller ; and that 
their girdles, hanging loosely about the hips — the customary 
arrangement with women when not at work — and knotted 
so that the extremities hung down in front, were likewise 
gay with embroidery and precious threads, while showy 
rings and bracelets adorned their ears and wrists. 

Nor were the women less noticeable from personal ap- 
pearance and bearing. Strong and erect they were as a 
matter of course — no feeble woman could hope to bear her 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


3 


water-jar safely from David’s well to her house in the town. 
Beauty and grace also showed in their figures and motions, 
— little disguised as these were by their loose garments, — 
betokening at once both culture and a generous dower from 
the hand of Nature. Their oval, well-formed faces were 
strongly Hebrew in type ; the abundant black hair, glossy 
with oil, spicy with perfume, escaping freely from under 
the tsaniph, combined well with the dark eyes and brows — 
the latter deepened in hue with pigment — to set off coun- 
tenances which a candid observer would have pronounced 
of unusual beauty, even in Bethlehem. They were kindly, 
intelligent faces, — the older woman’s naturally the more 
thoughtful and firm, her daughter’s the more animated, in 
expression. 

The boy, trudging silently by his mother’s side, was 
clad very simply. A plain white sleeveless tunic, confined 
by a girdle, covered his person to a point a little below the 
knee, over which was thrown the ordinary white tallith, — 
an oblong garment not unlike a shawl, a fringe at each end, 
tied at the corners with the blue cord enjoined by the law. 
Sandals were strapped to his bare feet, while his head was 
protected by a common keffiyeh, — a large white handker- 
chief, slightly ornamented with strands of purple and scarlet 
silk, worn so that the corners fell at the sides of the face 
and in the rear, and bound to the head by a cord of twisted 
goat’s hair. The lad bore a strong resemblance to his 
mother, but had certainly not inherited her beauty. Nature 
had left too much space in his face, as it were, unfilled ; there 
was a suggestion of a gap between the upper and lower 
parts, and a certain undue squareness of contour. Yet he 
was not without the lineaments of a true Jew, nor were 
the more striking features of his mother’s face lacking. 
There were the same dark — scarcely black — and pensive 
eyes, with their look of candour and straightforward- 
ness ; the same glossy black hair and eyebrows ; and the 


4 


EMMANUEL ; 


same thoughtful brow, and wide and firm, yet kindly, 
mouth. 

While the women, with no little interchange of gossip, 
were filling their jars, the boy passed on a little way, and, 
seating himself on a stony bank above the roadway, gazed 
upon the prospect to the east and south-east. He glanced 
lightly over the well-known field of Bethlehem, in the val- 
ley, his father’s part thereof already sown with wheat and 
barley ; ignored the great, purple rampart of the mountains 
of Moab lying all along the eastern horizon, and wrapped 
in mysterious haze ; and fixed his eyes with steady interest 
on the hill-slopes of the wilderness of Judaea, just across 
the valley eastward, then green with abundant pasturage 
and bright with the golden light of the sinking sun. Nor 
was he looking at that object in the wilderness which would 
have arrested a stranger’s gaze immediately. He scarcely 
noticed the great towers and marble walls of Herodium, 
the king’s palace-fortress, which, with its two hundred 
steps of polished stones leading up from the valley, shone 
and glittered from the top of a prominent hill a few miles 
away, like the very gate of Paradise. Often as he had, on 
former occasions, gazed and wondered at the army of 
strange workmen employed in building that palace, and at 
the massive stones and beautiful buildings which he dared 
not inspect near by, on this evening the royal abode, so 
soon to become the royal tomb, interested him not at all. 
His look was fixed on the slopes to the right of the Hero- 
dium. There lay his father’s flocks ; and there, if those 
clouds in the south-west did not bring up the rain again, he 
was to spend the night with the shepherds, watching at the 
door of the sheepfold. 

How he had been looking forward to this night ! What 
could have kept his father and brother that they had not 
returned from the fold? Perhaps already they were at 
home, and waiting for him. Were not those water- jars 


THE STORY OF THE 3IESSIAH. 


5 


filled yet? As he was about to turn to see, his eye fell on 
the form of a neighbour, a man by the name of Elihu, com- 
ing up from his work in the field. 

“Hail, Thoma, lad!” said the man. “Eying the old 
king’s palace again, art thou? Were the chance thine, 
wouldest thou live in such a gilded house ? ” 

“ No, indeed, I would not,” said the boy vigorously. 

“And wherefore not? Is it not finer than thy father’s, 
with all his lands and his flocks ? ” rejoined the man, turn- 
ing to look at the splendid structure crowning the eastern 
hill-top. 

“ Yea, Elihu,” answered Thoma, in a half-puzzled tone, 
his eyes following those of the man; “but it is not my 
father’s house ; it belongs to the wicked king, Herod.” 

“ Verily, boy, thou sayest he is a wicked king, and may 
the Grod of our fathers ” — 

The ready malediction was unuttered, for the sound of a 
step on the roadway diverted the attention of both man and 
boy. A well-known Bethlehemite was walking wearily, 
staff in hand, up the ascent to the town. He was an old 
man, small in stature, and somewhat bent with years ; but 
though the frosts of many winters had sprinkled his long 
hair and beard with gray, age had not yet seriously sapped 
the strength of Jesse Ben-Jonadab. It brought out, 
indeed, his large nose and other strongly marked features 
with increased prominence ; but it seemed only to add a 
new keenness to the small black eyes glowing under his 
bushy brows. 

“Hail, Jesse!” said Elihu respectfully. “The Lord 
be with thee.” 

“ The Lord bless thee, my son,” came the reply, with 
grave deliberateness. 

“ What heardest thou, Ben-Jonadab, at the Holy 
City?” 

The women at the well stopped their work to listen. 


6 


EMMANUEL ; 


‘ ‘ Blessed be the name of the Lord ! ” exclaimed the old 
man, his face brightening and his eyes flashing. “ There 
is news in Jerusalem, of a truth. The fox hath been 
tracked to his hole and caught at last. The Lord liveth ! ” 
“The fox!” cried Elihu. “ Nol the Idumaean who 
calleth himself King of Israel ! Not Herod ! Hath that 
sister of his, Salome, poisoned him at last?” 

“ Nay, ray son ; would to God it were so ! But the Lord 
liveth. That beast of prey — he is no fox, my son — shall 
yet be visited with the vengeance of the Most High for the 
righteous blood he hath spilled. Nay, it is his son, that 
viper’s offspring, Antipater.” 

“ Now God be praised ! And how came he into the old 
king’s clutches ? Is he not in Rome, and well warned that 
his wickedness is discovered ? ” 

The women left their water-pots and came forward, 
eager to hear the old man’s narrative. 

“ ’Tis now two days,” Jesse went on, “ since Antipater 
— perish the day whereon he saw the light ! — landed at 
Caesarea. It is told all over Jerusalem how no man met 
him at the quay ; nor did any do him honour as he passed 
through the streets. There seemed a solitude in the city 
where friends were wont to be thick as grasshoppers. At 
the Holy City it was the same ; the porter at the gate of 
the new palace let him in, indeed, but shut his friends out ; 
and men say, that when he came into the king’s presence, 
and approached to salute, Herod drove him away, up- 
braiding him as the murderer of his brethren and a plotter 
of destruction against himself. Yesterday was this foul 
destroyer of the sons of Mariamne and of the hope of 
Israel tried by Herod and Varus, the Roman, — he is, as 
thou knowest. Governor of Syria, — and condemned ; for 
which the Lord be praised ! The poison which he had sent 
for his father slew a criminal before their very eyes. And, 
behold, the king hath sent messengers to Caesar ; no man 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


T 


knoweth why, but all Jerusalem believeth it is for leave to 
put his serpent’s offspring to death.” 

The breathless interest with which the old man’s auditors 
followed this story caused at its conclusion a momentary 
silence, quickly broken, however, by Elihu. 

“ Verily, the Lord liveth ! ” he exclaimed ; “ blessed be 
the name of the Lord ! And heardest thou other news, 
Ben-Jonadab? ” 

“Yea; it is rumoured that Herod hath grown old fast 
since his son’s \dllany became known to him. Some say 
the physicians believe he will not live over a few months, — 
which may the God of Israel grant to His suffering people ! ” 

With the last words, Jesse gathered his tallith about him, 
seized his staff, and started on toward the gate. But he 
had not gone a dozen steps before the sound of an animal’s 
tread on the rocky path caused him to halt and look 
around down the roadway, the remainder of the group 
doing the same. It was no strange sight which met their 
eyes ; only a sturdy, roughly clad young artisan leading 
an ass, on which sat a young woman, doubtless his wife, 
also plainly, though neatly, attired. As it was already cold 
in the shadow of the western hills, she had wrapped her 
mitpachath, or shawl, closely about her, its upper folds 
being drawn over the top of her head, and fastened to it, 
like the kefflyeh of the boy, by a cord of twisted goat’s 
hair. 

“ Two more children of Abraham, I warrant me,” mut- 
tered Jesse, when the stranger pair had passed and were 
beyond earshot, “ come to enroll themselves at the com- 
mand of their Eoman master and his satrap, Herod.” 
Then, turning his keen eyes on Elihu, — 

“ How is the khan to-night?” 

“Full, I doubt not, Ben-Jonadab. Several have come 
to enroll themselves, and a party of grain-buyers are stop- 
ping in the town.” 


8 


EMMANUEL ; 


“ Got they any wheat in Bethlehem? ” 

“ Verily, I believe not. I told them they would have to 
go down as far as Gaza to buy wheat this year.” 

The old man faced about once more, and trudged on 
through the gate, Elihu keeping him company. The women 
went back to their water-jars, and, as fast as these were 
filled, raised them to their shoulders and filed back into 
the town. Elisabeth and her children walked in silence at 
first, the mother and daughter thinking of the stranger 
woman who had passed them, the boy, of the story old 
Jesse had told of King Herod and his son. 

Presently the latter broke out, “My mother, why did 
Jesse call the king’s son a fox? What hath he done?” 

“ My son, he falsely accused his two brothers, Alexan- 
der and Aristobulus, to his father. They were sons of our 
noble princess, Mariamne, and the only rightful heirs to the 
throne of David. This base brother persuaded the wicked 
old king to kill them. Israel hoped that under one of 
them her ancient glory would be revived ; but now we can 
only wait for the coming of the Messiah. When he com- 
eth, Judah, he will avenge his people on her oppressors ; he 
will restore the kingdom to Israel, and make her to rule 
over the Gentiles.” 

The city gate and the group of elders sitting by it had 
been left some distance behind when Thoma spoke again. 

“ My mother,” he said then, “ did not the poor woman 
look tired as she rode by us ? I think *she had a beautiful 
face.” 

Elisabeth assented somewhat absently. 

On finding that his father and brother had not yet re- 
turned to the house, the fair young woman and her husband 
recurred to the boy’s mind, and partly from restlessness, 
partly from curiosity, he wandered on to the khan to see 
how the late comers had fared within its crowded limits. 
At the gateway of the low, square structure there was a 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


9 


throng of men, and, looking through the entrance, one 
^ could see that the small, open court within was also filled 
with men, animals, and the burdens of the latter, while the 
covered portion around the court was all taken up with 
guests or merchandise. In the narrow street in front of 
the gateway, and looking through it into the crowded in- 
terior in dismay, was the man of whom Thoma was think- 
ing. The young peasant stood mechanically holding the 
ass by the head to prevent it taking fright at the din round 
about it ; but clearly he was without purpose, and at a loss 
what to do. 

The woman’s face, however, showed no signs of anxiety, 
though it told plainly enough of great fatigue. 

She was looking down the narrow street at the bit of lull- 
country visible through its extremity, where the sunlight 
was still lingering on the higher summits, and gilding the 
walls of the Herodium. Manifestly, her thoughts were far 
away from the noise and confusion about her. Thoma’s 
curiosity grew into deeper interest ; that tender and chival- 
rous devotion to woman of which a pure-hearted boy is 
capable awoke in him as he watched the fair, sweet face, 
its outlines so delicately curved, its decidedly Jewish feat- 
ures softened into unusual purity and gentleness. The 
dark eyes, he thought, were not so thoughtful as his 
mother’s, but were even more serene ; while the wearied, 
almost pathetic, expression of the face, transfused with 
what certainly seemed gladness, quiet but deep, gave it a 
singular charm. The boy never lost the impression made 
upon him by that transfigured face. He wondered what 
she saw off there on the hills, and instinctively turned to 
look. 

His reverie was abruptly cut short. Certain of the 
grain-buyers, after a fruitless search for wheat, came back 
to the khan disappointed, and, making their way through 
the crowd with little ceremony, brushed Thoma roughly 


■V 


10 EMMANUEL ; 

to one side. His eye followed them angrily for a moment, 
but at the same time lighted upon the anxious face of the 
stranger peasant. 

Approaching the man, he inquired with some diffidence, 
‘‘Sir, hast thou no place to stop for the night? ” 

The stranger started, and looked down on him in sur- 
prise. 

“Nay, verily, my son,’’ he said slowly, “I know not 
where I may abide.” 

“Then come with me, and thou shalt lodge in our 
stable. We have no cattle in it now, and last week sev- 
eral men abode there while they were being enrolled.” 

The man’s rather stolid but honest countenance bright- 
ened at this invitation ; nevertheless he hesitated. Sud- 
denly the boy darted down the street. A man and boy 
were approaching, whom he greeted joyfully, laying hold 
of the folds of the former’s ample cloak. 

“My father,” he exclaimed, “behold two strangers, 
come to be enrolled, who cannot find room in the khan ; 
may I not take them to the old stable ? ” 

Salmon, father of Thoma, was in great haste that even- 
ing ; he had been detained in leaving the flock, much to 
his annoyance ; moreover, the enrolment was an exceed- 
ingly obnoxious topic with all true Israelites. Had he 
followed his son and met the stranger couple, or had he 
known that one of them was a woman, he would undoubt- 
edly have offered them the best accommodations that his 
house afforded. As it was, he answered shortly, hurrying 
on, “Yea, son, thou mayest; but see that thou be in 
haste, for 1 return quickly.” 

Salmon Be.n-Eliab was of a different type from the boy 
Thoma. The older son, Asahel, his more frequent com- 
panion, resembled him most. The father’s rather narrow 
and handsome face, with its clearly cut features, keen, rest- 
less eyes, and animated expression, together with his active 


THE STOEY OF THE MESSIAH. 


11 


disposition, had descended as a heritage to Asahel, not to 
Thoma. 

The two boys turned aside to the stranger couple ; and 
as Asahel now seconded his brother’s invitation, and gave 
assurance of their father's consent, the man gladly led the 
ass, with its fair burden, from the door of the khan, and 
followed his young guides. They led him through a dark 
and very narrow lane to the edge of the hill on which the 
town was built, and then down a tortuous path to a grotto 
of some size, extending into the rocky heart of the hill. 
The place had formerly been used as a stable ; but the 
difficulty of access had prompted Salmon, not, indeed, 
like so many of the people, to find place for his cattle in 
the same room with his family, but to build a more con- 
venient shelter elsewhere. Clean straw had been spread 
over the fioor for the occupants of the week before, and 
comfort of a rude sort was certainly possible in the strange 
apartment ; yet, beyond question, very few accustomed to 
the comfort of modern life would have cared to pass the 
night in it ; nor, in fact, would any of the wealthier class 
of Judaea, at that day, have looked save with contempt 
upon such a lodging. But to Joseph of Nazareth and 
his wife, accustomed to a life of privation, the place was 
attractive enough, and very grateful after their long 
journey. 

“Thoma, my son,” said Salmon, as the boys entered 
their own dwelling, immediately above the cave, “ art thou 
ready to go with me over to the hills ? ” 

“ Verily, I am, father,” Thoma replied with alacrity. 

“ And the flour and the figs, are they ready?” 

“Yea, my father.” 

“Then must we depart, forthwith; the sun is already 
down, and soon it will be dark. Had not that sheep 
strayed down the valley, I would have been here an hour 
ago ; but 1 dared not wait till to-morrow to search for it. 


12 


EMMANUEL ; 


A 


lest the wild beasts leave me not so much as a bone for a 
token.” 

He was detained, however, for a few minutes, during 
which Asahel recounted to his brother the delights of his 
two days’ sojourn with his father and the shepherds on the 
hills and in the wilderness. To see the two boys together 
was to perceive more clearly their difference, notwith- 
standing they were twins. Asahel, the elder, was the 
pride of the house. Though Thoma had outgrown him 
somewhat, yet Asahel, by his handsome face, ready speech, 
and quick movements, always attracted attention rather 
than his slower and plainer brother. 

After the birth of the daughter, Sarah, for a long time 
their mother had not been blessed with children. Year 
after year went by, and the Lord did not give her the son 
for whom she prayed. Ten years passed by, and she had 
almost given up hope, when, at last, her sorrow was turned 
into joy, and a son was born. In her gratitude she named 
him Asahel, for, she said, “ it is the work of God.” For the 
brother who came with him, she had no name ready, and 
it was doubtful if any would be needed, for it seemed cer- 
tain the puny little creature would die. At first she called 
him simply Thoma, the twin ; and though at his circum- 
cision he received the name of Judah, yet the surname, 
Thoma, clung to him persistently. Even in his home he 
was called Thoma quite as often as Judah ; outside of it 
the former name was universal. His brother, however, 
called him only Judah. 

Soon the father and son, — the former burdened with pro- 
visions for the shepherds, the boy wearing the large outer 
cloak which Asahel had surrendered to him, — after exchang- 
ing with Elisabeth the parting salutation, “ Peace be unto 
thee,” went with rapid steps down the dusky street and 
out into the open country. They were not long descend- 
ing the hill and crossing the brook in the valley, for the 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


13 


faint glow in the west still shed a little light over the 
scene, so that they were able to thread their way through 
the fig and olive groves, and to clamber safely down the 
vine-covered terraces. With all the speed the boy’s lim- 
ited strength would permit, however, night closed in upon 
them before they arrived at the sheepfold ; but as Salmon 
knew the region well, they reached the shepherd circle 
around the fire in front of the fold in safety. 

This last was a square, walled enclosure, with a rude 
shelter within in one corner, where the sheep could huddle 
in stormy weather. The wall, though not very high, was 
armed on top with sharp stones, set on end to make it 
difficult for thief or animal to climb over. Nevertheless, 
the shepherd never felt sure of the safety of his flock at 
night till a trusty guard was posted at the door. 

As Thoma and his father drew near, the shepherds, hear- 
ing the sound of footsteps, grasped their staves and slings, 
started to their feet, and peered anxiously into the dark- 
ness in the direction of the sound. It was a striking 
scene thus presented, brought out, as it was, into bold re- 
lief by the light from the fire, while all the surroundings — 
fold, hill-side, and valley — were shrouded in darkness, or 
but dimly visible. The huge cloaks of fleecy sheepskin, 
hanging loosely from the shoulders, and thrown back that the 
arms might be free, and the short tunics beneath, concealed 
but little of the muscular forms and sinewy limbs of the 
watchful shepherds ; and as they bent forward towards the 
suspicious sounds, each strong right arm holding its sling 
ready for instant use, the group might have served as an 
ideal representation of alertness. The voice of Salmon 
worked an instant change. 

“ Hail, Jonathan ! It is I ; fear not,” he cried ; and the 
men dropped their weapons. 

“ The Lord be with you,” he continued, coming up. 

“ The Lord bless thee,” was the respectful response. 


14 


JEMMANUEL ; 


Master and servants alike made a simple meal from the 
dry bread and figs which Salmon had brought from the 
town. Then, while the men sat gazing silently and some- 
what solemnly into the fire, Jonathan, a man of gigantic 
stature and swarthy face, — a face easily becoming fierce 
and passionate, but not without kindliness when in repose, 
— turned to Thoma. 

“ So, my lad, thou art come out to learn the shepherd’s 
trade, like our father, David. Wouldest thou like to lead 
a fiock over these hills day after day, as he did? ” 

“ Yea,” said the boy, “ thou sayest I would.” 

“ Thy brother promised to take the best of care of the 
sheep ; wilt thou do the same ? ” 

“ Indeed I will, Jonathan. I will lead them to the best 
pasture and the liviug waters. I will carry the lambs in 
my arms when they are tired.” 

“ What wilt thou do at night? ” 

“ I will count them all at the door of the fold, and be 
sure that all are there ; and then I will keep watch outside 
until the morning.” 

“ And if a lion or a bear come near thee, as they came 
to David ? ” 

Thoma glanced out into the gloom beyond the firelight, 
caught sight of the dim outline of the hill sloping up above 
him, and the deep darkness of the valleys on either side, 
thought of the terrible creatures that might be abroad in 
the night, and instinctively drew closer to his father, and 
looked up into his face for reassurance. The shepherds 
broke into a laugh. 

“Ah, Thoma!” said Jonathan with a smile, “I fear 
thou wilt never equal the son of Jesse in the matter of 
killing bears and lions. But what will become of thy 
fiock if thou fiee from the lion at his approach?” 

The poor boy had been much abashed by the laughter of 
the men ; but this question seemed to arouse a new impulse 


THF. STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


16 


within him. Suddenly he sprang to his feet, his eyes 
flashing in a way very unusual with him. 

“ If a lion touched one of my sheep,” he exclaimed with 
clenched fists, “ I would kill him ! ” 

Both shepherds and master, being simple-hearted folk, 
eyed the boyish figure admiringly. 

“ Ah,” said Jonathan, “ wouldest thou, Judah Thoma? 
Then, I doubt not, thou wilt make a good shepherd, 
perhaps as good as the shepherd-king himself.” 

Soon the men stretched themselves on the ground for the 
night, with the exception of the one detailed for the first 
watch, who sat gazing solemnly into the fire, and throwing 
over them their fleecy sheepskin mantles, were shortly* fast 
asleep. Not so Thoma. He lay by his father’s side, sharing 
his ample cloak, and looked up into the sky, where the in- 
numerable stars shone with the lustre peculiar to the dry 
atmosphere ; but the strangeness of his surroundings drove 
sleep from his eyes. The vast arch overhead ; the wide, 
still spaces of hill and valley, still except when occasion- 
ally the hoot of an owl or the distant cry of some vagrant 
company of jackals broke the silence of the night and 
startled for the moment the watchman dozing by the fire ; 
tlie chill wind blowing down from the north, and sweeping 
every fe-^ minutes across his upturned face, — all combined 
to keep him wakeful long after his companions were lost 
ill slumber. 

An hour and more went by ; the crescent moon in the 
western sky sank below the horizon ; the first watch was 
over, at length, and the shepherd sitting by the fire gave 
place to one of his comrades ; and still sleep did not come 
to the wide-eyed boy. By this time he had ceased waiting 
for it, and had given himself up to the influences of the 
place and time. His thoughts reverted to the words of 
Jonathan, “ Perhaps as good as the shepherd-king him- 
self.” Was it possible? Could he, a mere boy, defend 


16 


EMMANUEL ; 


his sheep against a lion ? Ah ! but he would be a man 
some day. Then, if a lion attacked his sheep — yea, he 
would kill him. He could not let the cruel beast tear and 
devour his lambs. But if the lion should prove too strong 
for him ! How did he know that even when he grew up 
he would be able to slay a lion? And yet, David was not 
yet a man when he killed the lion and the bear. How 
did he do it? “The Lord delivered him” — yea, those 
were David’s own words — “out of the paw of the lion 
and out of the paw of the bear.” The Lord, the God of 
Israel ! But the Lord still lived ; surely, God was not 
dead. He would still deliver His servant that trusted in 
Him*. Was He not up on high, somewhere above those 
countless stars ? How brightly they shone to-night ! es- 
pecially that great one directly overhead. How beautiful 
it was ! It actually seemed to grow more brilliant each 
moment he looked at it. Why, surely, it was growing 
larger and brighter ; it was coming nearer ! Was he in a 
vision? Had he fallen asleep, after all, out on the hill- 
side, and was a ladder from heaven about to be lowered 
to him, as to his father, Jacob, so long ago? Nearer, 
nearer yet ! how glorious ! But it was not a ladder ; it 
was a man. What a mighty, what a beautiful, form ! and 
his face, how it shone ! And his clothing ! Ah, it was an 
angel ! 

Presently the splendid form, dropping steadily through 
the air, caught the eye of the sleepy watchman. Seeing 
something glorious coming down from above, he grasped 
Salmon by the shoulder. 

“Awake, my master! awake, Jonathan!” he cried. 
“The door of heaven is open, and the glory of the Lord 
is shining through.” 

Then the boy knew that it was no vision, that he was wide 
awake ; and, like his companions, he raised himself to a 
sitting posture, only, like them, to fall back to the earth 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH, 


17 


in fear and dread ; for who could face the messenger of the 
Most High? An angel it was, indeed, — an angel attended 
with the glory of God, which flooded the hill-side with a 
brightness above that of noonday. Thoina trembled from 
head to foot ; he wished the earth might open and hide 
him from the splendour of that mighty one, poised there so 
little above him. And yet, though it hurt his eyes, he 
could not but look upon the angel’s face. Ah, what a 
countenance, — so bright, so beautiful, so noble ! And what 
eyes, — liquid, brilliant, and starlike ! 

Then the angel spoke to the terrified men, and his 
words were like the notes of some noble and exultant 
melody, sweet, grand, and vibrant with gladness. 

“Be -not afraid; for behold, I bring you good tidings 
of great joy, which shall be to all the people ; for there is 
born to you this day, in the city of David, a Saviour, who is 
Christ the Lord. And this is the sign unto you ; ye shall find 
a babe wrapped in swaddling-clothes, and lying in a manger.” 

The sweet, sonorous tones ceased, but for a moment 
only ; then the shining face was turned upward, the angel 
arms were raised toward the heavens, and again, in even 
grander refrain, the heavenly visitor broke forth, — 

“ Gloiy to God, glory to God in the highest ! ” 

Instantly there appeared behind him a group of shining 
ones, who, before his doxology had died away on the 
quivering air, took it up and repeated it again and again. 

“ Glory to God, glory to God in the highest ! ” 

At each repetition new voices were heard, some near, 
some far above, seemingly all the way up the shining path, 
chanting the heavenly chorus, till in its full form it ran, — 

“ Glory to God in the highest. 

And on earth peace, good-will among men. 

Gradually the angel forms mounted higher, the heavenly 


18 


EMMANUEL ; 


music came from greater distances, the light grew less 
and less, till, finally, the star which Thoma had watched 
was as far away as before, and the darkness of the quiet 
hill-slopes was as great as ever. Indeed, to the shepherds 
it seemed greater ; for it was some time before their dazzled 
eyes could distinguish anything, except the little fire in the 
midst of them. 

When their fear had partly passed away, and their eyes 
become accustomed once more to the darkness, Jonathan 
broke the silence with an awe-struck voice, contrasting 
strangely with his usual confident tone. 

“My lord, what meaneth this wonderful message of 
the heavenly one?” 

“Verily, I know not,” whispered Salmon, “except it 
be the birth of the Messiah. Did not the angel say, ‘ A 
Saviour, who is Christ the Lord ’ ? ” 

“ I>en so, Ben-Eliab, and he said he is born this day 
in the city of David.” 

“Yea,” cried Salmon, springing to his feet; “ and he 
said we should find him there, lying in a manger. Then, 
why tarry we here? Come, my brethren, let us now go 
even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing that is come to 
pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us.” 

This summons met with an instant response. The shep- 
herds were soon hastening, with rapid feet and excited 
minds, down the hill-side, no one thinking of the flock left 
without guard in the lonely wilderness. Never before had 
they made their way down that slope with such precipitate 
speed, nor hurried so eagerly up through the orchards and 
vineyards below the walls of Bethlehem. But when a 
private gate had admitted them to the dark, silent streets, 
they were brought to a standstill. It had not occurred to 
them that they would not know where to look for the child 
wlien the town was gained. Unconsciously they had ex- 
pected to find the streets of Bethlehem filled with throngs 


THli: STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


19 


of people, as much excited over the great event as 
themselves ; instead, the silence of midnight was un- 
broken, except by the angry howls of a company of 
scavenger dogs in an adjacent street, and the deep 
gloom of the narrow streets unpierced by the ray of a 
single torch or lamp. Bethlehem was manifestly en- 
tirely unaware that the promised honour of centuries 
had, at last, been conferred upon her. While they stood 
in doubt which way to go, a well-known voice greeted 
them from out of the darkness, — the voice of the city 
watchman. 

“All hail, sons of Judah! Who are ye, and whence 
come ye, that ye gather at the gate of Bethlehem in the 
middle watch of the night?” 

“Hail, Mattathiah, watchman of Bethlehem!” cried 
Salmon eagerly. “We are thy fellow-townsmen. Tell 
us, where is the new-born Messiah?” 

“ My lord,” said the watchman, recognizing the voice 
of the speaker, “ what is this thou asketh of me? Would 
to God I could tell thee.” 

“ He is born, Mattathiah ; he is born. The angel of 
the Lord hath revealed it to us. Sawest thou not, O 
watchman of Bethlehem, a great light over on the hills 
where my sheepfold standeth ? ” 

“ Now, blessed be God ! I saw the light, as thou sayest, 
Ben-Eliab, and much I wondered ” — 

“ And knowest thou not of a child born this night in 
Bethlehem, and in a stable ? ” 

But to this question the watchman was forced to return 
a regretful negative. He led the shepherds to a friend, of 
whom he hoped something might be learned ; but without 
avail. They were in utter perplexity. Finally, in lack of 
any better resource, Salmon went with his companions to 
his home, hoping that Elisabeth might possibly possess 
the needed knowledge ; but again he was disappointed. 


20 


EMMANUEL ; 


Neither his wife nor his daughter knew of the new-born 
Saviour. 

While they were debating what to do next, Asahel in- 
quired abruptly, “ My father, sayest thou not the babe is 
to be found lying in a manger ? ” 

“ Yea, lad.” 

‘ ‘ Perchance he is in the old stable ; thou knowest there 
is a man and his wife there.” 

“ How sayest thou, boy? A man and his wife? I knew 
not there was a woman in the cave. Bring me a torch, 
my son.” 

Aided by the light of the torch, held aloft by one of the 
shepherds, the party threaded their way along the narrow 
path down the hill, till they stood in the mouth of the 
cave. Its occupants were still awake, and the search was 
finally successful ; the angel-heralded child was found. 

Lying on the ground near the wall, her head supported 
only by a bundle of the straw which formed her bed, was 
the fair young woman who had so interested the boy 
Thoma the evening before. The far-away look of her 
eyes had departed, but tlie expression of peace and serene 
happiness in the sweet face was stronger than ever, for 
now she was not only wife but mother. At one side of 
her, Joseph, her husband, sat cross-legged on the straw. 
He was scarcely noticed by the new-comers, however, for, 
on the other side, wrapped in swaddling-clothes and sleep- 
ing peacefully by the side of his happy mother, lay the 
object of their search, — the little babe of whom the 
angel had spoken but a short hour before. There was no 
aureola about him, nor any nimbus around his head ; nor, 
indeed, was there anything to mark him as the long-prom- 
ised King. To a casual observer he would have seemed 
merely a goodly child, over whom a young mother might 
well rejoice ; yet, nothing doubting, the shepherds pros- 
trated themselves reverently before him. In response to 


THE STOliY OF THE MESSIAH. 


21 


the mother’s look of wondering inquiry, Salmon and his 
excited companions explained the reason for their worship 
of her unconscious babe. The story of the awful glory, the 
divine herald and his message, and the angelic chorus, was 
soon told. Then, in silence and wonder not unmixed with 
fear, all in the rude apartment gazed at the sleeping child. 
On the face of Miriam, the young mother, the pensive, far- 
away look of the afternoon came back ; but she only, of 
the wondering company, uttered no word of astonishment : 
she “ kept all these things and pondered them in her 
heart.” 

Perhaps an hour had been spent in worshipful regard of 
the heaven-sent babe, and in hushed conversation about 
the great event, when the abandoned flock on the hill-side 
occurred to the practical Jonathan. 

“ My lord,” he said, approaching his master respect- 
fully, “ shall not thy servants return to the sheep in the 
wilderness ? Peradventure some evil may befall them if 
we tarry away.” 

Upon Salmon’s answer in the affirmative, the shepherds 
once more bowed low before the sleeping babe ; then, 
passing out into the darkness, they returned to their flock, 
“ glorifying and praising God for all the things that they 
had heard and seen, as it was told unto them.” Thoma 
did not accompany them ; there was a greater attraction 
for him now at home. 

“ Friend,” said Salmon to his guest when the men were 
gone, “ thou art, I doubt not, of the tribe of Judah, since 
thou comest hither to be enrolled.” 

“Yea, my Lord, I am Joseph, son of Jacob, of the 
house of DaAud.” 

“Of the house of David! Verily; for thus saith the 
prophet, ‘ I will raise unto David a righteous Branch, and 
a King shall reign and prosper.’ Art thou son to that 
Jacob, of the house of David, who left Bethlehem to dwell 


22 


EMMANUEL ; 


in Galilee, a score of years ago, at the time of the great 
famine?’^ 

“Yea, my lord, it is as thou sayest. My father de- 
parted to Galilee, and dwelt in the city of Nazareth, from 
whence I am come.” 

“ I bid thee welcome. Bar- Jacob, to the home of thy 
fathers. And now, I pray thee, do thy servant this 
honour ; come thou with thy family into the house of thy 
servant, and abide with us, thee and thine.” 


THE STOEY OF THE MESSIAH. 


23 


CHAPTER II. 

THE INFANT LORD IN THE TEMPLE.^ 

Arise, shine; for thy light is come, and the glory of the Lord is risen upon thee. 

Isa. lx. 1. 

T he winter passed rapidly in Bethlehem ; the people 
had a new theme, and one of surpassing interest, 
with which to beguile their leisure hours. Could it 
be, as the shepherds averred, that the Messiah had come 
at last? This was the question debated for weeks, — a 
question which, before the winter was over, the majority 
of the dwellers in Bethlehem had answered in the negative. 
Had they not visited and watched the young child and his 
mother again and again? Had they not thronged the 
house of Salmon on the day of the circumcision, when the 
name Jesus was given the child? And was it not certain 
that at no time had anything marvellous been seen in or 
about the infant son of Joseph? 

Not so had they been taught to think of the expected 
Deliverer. The teachers of Israel had represented the 
coming King as more than an ordinary man, — as existing 
in heaven before the foundation of the world, where he 
had already confounded Satan by his splendour. Glory 
and majesty were said to be in his appearance, while his 
name was to be Shiloh, as indicated in the law of Moses ; 
or if some other name might be his, no Rabbi had taught 
that it would be Jesus. Doubtless the shepherds had seen 
a vision of angels, and perhaps the Messiah was indeed 
at hand ; but he could scarcely be the child of people so 
poor and obscure as Joseph and Miriam, — a child natural 


1 Luke ii. 21-38; Matt. ii. 1,2. 


24 


EMMANUEL ; 


in appearance, and destitute, apparently, of every claim to 
the seer-given title. Wonderful. Moreover, his parents 
were not citizens of Bethlehem, but mere sojourners there ; 
and the child had been born in a stable ! 

It was otherwise with Salmon Ben-Eliab and his son ; 
their faith wavered not. For them nothing could shake the 
positive testimony of the divine messenger, whose glorious 
form they had seen with their own eyes, and whose very 
words they had heard with their own ears. 

The winter passed rapidly ; the storms which, one after 
another, swept over the hill-country of Judaea — drench- 
ing vineyards and orchards, valleys and hill-sides, and 
converting the parched, rocky beds of the winter streams 
into turbulent torrents — added a yet deeper hue of green 
to the wilderness pastures, and carpeted the cultivated 
fields in the valleys of Bethlehem with soft, velvety areas 
of springing wheat and barley. Following the sun north- 
ward came the first mild airs of spring, at whose gentle 
touch flowers, gay and fragrant, sprang into being in 
meadow and grove ; the almond-tree, in sheltered posi- 
tions, burst into masses of pink bloom ; and the peach, 
but little behind, screened its boughs with red and swell- 
ing buds. 

The earth was thus decking herself anew with garments 
of beauty, when at daybreak, one morning in early Feb- 
ruary, in the fourth year before our era, a little company 
issued from the north gate of Bethlehem. First came 
Joseph, son of Jacob, leading the ass upon which rode 
Miriam, his wife, her babe in her arms. Her mitpachath, 
together with a larger shawl, lent by Elisabeth, were 
wrapped closely about her and the little one ; for while 
the storm of the previous evening had passed away, and 
the sun just appearing over the mountains of Moab shone 
brightly from a cloudless sky, yet there were patches of 
snow on the higher hills, and, in specially exposed locali- 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


25 


ties, little pools of water were slightly fringed with ice. 
Snow and ice would be gone, indeed, long before noon, 
and the air again become mild ; but for the time it was 
chill and keen. 

Elisabeth, also riding an ass, which she guided herself, 
followed her fair, young guest, while by her side walked 
her daughter Sarah. Salmon, staff in hand, leading a 
small flock of sheep for the J erusalem market, and accom- 
panied by his two sons, brought up the rear. 

Hardly did Miriam herself, who was that day to make 
her purification offering, and to present her first-born son 
in the Temple of the Lord, look forward to the day’s expe- 
riences with greater joy than the two lads, Asahel and 
Thoma, — soon to look again on the wonder-inspiring 
sights and scenes of the Holy City. They could not con- 
tain their delight at the prospect. With the spirit of the 
bright morning in their young limbs, and in unconscious 
sympathy with the beauty and promise of the verdant hills 
and valleys, they were continually speeding on ahead of the 
party or darting off to one side or the other, with entirely 
superfluous vigilance, to bring some vagrant sheep back to 
the path. Especially was their enthusiasm kindled when, 
on gaining the height of ground north of Rachel’s tomb, 
not only the wilderness eastward, with the blue, low-lying 
Sea of Salt and the mountains beyond, — not only the 
white houses of beloved Bethlehem southward, but the 
Holy City northward. Mount Zion and her palaces. Mount 
Moriah and her holy Temple, burst upon their view. For 
an instant the whole company stood still, regarding 
silently the attractive, and to them supremely interest- 
ing, prospect ; then the boys broke out in exclamations of 
delight, — a delight shared, in no small degree, by their 
elders. Often as some of them had looked upon the city, 
yet the renewed sight of it never failed to move them to 
admiration and exultation, — exultation, it must be admit- 


26 


EMMANUEL ; 


ted, not unmixed with wrath; for could any Jew forget 
that his king, whose marble palace, protected by its three 
massive towers, glistened from yonder hill of Zion, was a 
ruthless tyrant? Yea, even worse than that, — the mere 
satrap of a foreign ruler. While Asahel plied his father 
with eager questions, Thoma, less demonstrative, relapsed 
into silence, and, like his mother and Miriam, gazed 
thoughtfully over the scene. 

Presently, in quiet tones, and in the ancient and sacred 
Hebrew tongue, he began to repeat the familiar one hun- 
dred and twenty-second Psalm : — 

“ I was glad when they said unto me, 

Let us go into the house of the Lord. 

Our feet are standing 
Within thy gates, O Jerusalem ; 

Jei’usalem, that art builded 

As a city that is compact together : 

Whither the ti-ibes go up, even the tribes of the Lord.” 

His mother joined in the Psalm at the second line, and 
their united voices attracting Asahel’ s attention, the lat- 
ter took up the refrain with vigour, and turned the quiet 
recitation into a chant, in which all soon took part. 
When the last echoes had died away on the neighbouring 
slopes, Joseph and his companions started on again across 
the once famous Valley of Giants to the Gihon valley and 
the walls of Jerusalem. At length the great lower pool of 
Gihon was left behind, the gentle ascent north of it 
climbed, and the western city-gate beyond entered. The 
massive tower at the right of the gate, called Hippicus, 
in memory of a friend of the king, much as it excited the 
wonder of the twins, was passed by with haste. Joseph 
hurried by it with no little apprehension. Who could tell 
when a company of Herod’s insolent body-guard, w'ith their 
gigantic limbs, long yellow hair, and fierce blue eyes, 
would start forth from under its ponderous portal? And 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


27 


this morning Miriam must come into contact with nothing 
unclean. 

Rapidly as possible he made his way with his charge 
along the narrow and crowded way, it being nearly the 
third hour, and the streets of Jerusalem at their busiest. 
The throngs of people, the strange sights, and the confu- 
sion of 'sounds were a constant surprise and bewilderment 
to the lads, who would have stopped and lost their way a 
dozen times but for their father’s watchfulness. The lat- 
ter, having sheep to dispose of before he could visit the 
Temple, went with his sons directly to the sheep market. 
Fortunately the animals were brought under contract, and 
so, on this occasion, the lengthy and wearisome process of 
Oriental bargaining w'as dispensed with. When, on leav- 
ing the market, Salmon led his sons back under the shadow 
of the vast Antonio tower, and down the west side of the 
crowded, noisy Valley of the Cheesemongers, — known also 
as the Tyropoeon, — the latter felt that they were being 
hurried through a world of wonders, with opportunity really 
to see none of them. But a moment later all these sights 
were forgotten ; for, as they crossed the massive upper, 
or Xystus, bridge, spanning the deep valley they had just 
left, the Temple in all its splendour rose before them. 

Let the reader picture to himself a series of four clois- 
ters, flanked on the east and west by the deep Kedron 
and Tyropoeon valleys ‘respectively, and enclosing a large 
quadrangular area. Let him think of three of these 
cloisters as formed by a double row of Corinthian col- 
umns, thirty-seven and a half feet high, a fine cedar roof, 
and the outer wall ; and the fourth, a splendid structure, 
called the Royal Porch, as composed of four rows of col- 
umns, the outermost and innermost arcades rising to the 
height of fifty feet, the two central ones — forming what 
might be called the nave of the cloister — lifting their 
costly roof a hundred feet into the air. 


28 


EMMANUEL ; 


Let him also conceive of the enclosed quadrangle as, 
not an open and level space, but a small hill crowned 
with other and more sacred buildings. Stepping out from 
the shelter of the cloister, and approaching these central 
buildings, the visitor, if a Gentile, soon found his progress 
checked by a stone balustrade, beautifully carved, at every 
opening in -which was an inscription in Greek and Latin, 
warning all strangers not to enter the sacred enclosure 
under pain of death. Immediately within the openings in 
this balustrade, flights of fourteen steps led up to the terrace, 
or platform, on which the Temple proper was located. The 
space between the top of the steps and this inner temple, 
a space encompassing the latter on three sides, was called 
the Chel. The true Temple, thus elevated above the court of 
the Gentiles, was itself divided into two parts by a trans- 
verse wall, the smaller and eastern court so formed being 
known as the court of the women, the larger as the Temple 
court. Both were enclosed by a high, massive wall ; but 
again there was a difference of level, an ascent of fifteen 
steps being required to bring the worshipper into the 
Temple court from that of the women. 

The foreign Jew who would enter the house of his God 
by its most imposing portal passed over the lower bridge, 
traversed the Royal Porch and half of the eastern clois- 
ter, known as Solomon’s Porch, and then, turning toward 
the Sanctuary, and going over the open space of the court 
of the Gentiles, mounted the steps to the Chel, and passed 
into the sacred buildings by the Beautiful Gate. Richly 
ornamented with gold and silver were the nine gates open- 
ing into the Temple proper, the gift of the wealthy Egyp- 
tian banker, Alexander, whose brother, Philo of Alexandria, 
was the most renowned Jewish scholar of the age ; but 
among them all the eastern gate, termed by way of pre- 
eminent distinction ‘‘the Beautiful,” was easily first, at 
once, in size and in splendour, Leaving this behind, and 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


29 


crossing the court of the women, ^o called because in it 
were the galleries set apart for female worshippers, a gate- 
way more notable, more imposing still, rose before the wor- 
shipper, — the great, inner gate of Nieanor. Its ponderous 
valves, so massive that twenty men were required to close 
them, were made of Corinthian brass, elaborately chased, 
while in front of them stood a lofty portico, which sup- 
ported apartments above, was ornamented overhead by a 
colossal golden eagle, and was fronted and flanked by 
broad flights of fifteen steps. 

The Temple court, reached when this fine portal was 
passed, w’as also divided, but only by a low parapet, into 
two unequal parts, — the outer and smaller being the court 
of Israel ; the inner, also slightly the higher, the court of 
the priests. In the former, male Israelites watched the 
sacrifices, and worshipped ; in the latter rose the huge mass 
of the altar of burnt offerings, — a great pile, forty-eight 
feet square by over twenty feet high, built of unhewn stones, 
whitewashed, and approached by an inclined plane from the 
south side of the court. On the north side of the altar 
were the rings and stakes to which the animals brought in 
for sacrifice were fastened ; while at its south-west corner 
was the opening into the subterranean conduit by which 
the blood of the victims flowed away to the king’s garden 
at Siloam. Add to this huge structure, sprinkled and 
flowing with blood, the eight marble slabs adjoining it, on 
which was placed the flesh of the slain beasts, and the 
eight pillars, to which the carcasses were hung for flaying, 
and we have before us a religious enclosure utterly differ- 
ent from, and even repugnant to, our modern ideas con- 
cerning a place of worship. 

Behind the great altar rose the Holy House, the Sanc- 
tuary, in Jewish belief the peculiar dwelling-place of 
Jahveh. This structure, according to the enthusiastic 
description of an Israelite of the next generation, like a 


30 


EMMANUEL ; 


mighty lion coiichant, rested on a terrace — the very crest 
of the hill — a little above the general level of the court 
of the priests, a flight of twelve steps leading up to it, 
and was constructed of white marble, splendidly orna- 
mented, in accordance with Eastern taste, with plates of 
gold. A fine curtain of Oriental workmanship hanging 
within formed two apartments of unequal size, — the inner- 
most of which, the Holy of Holies, was a cubical chamber 
of thirty feet dimensions, and, with the exception of a 
stone on which the High Priest rested his censer on the 
Great Day of Atonement, utterly destitute of furniture of 
any kind ; the outer, the Holy Place, was of the same 
width and height, but of twice the length of the other. 
In the latter were the table of shew-bread, the seven- 
branched golden lamp-stand, and between these the altar 
of incense, from which twice a day rose fragrant clouds 
in beautiful symbolism of the prayers of assembled 
Israel. Between the altar and the entrance hung another 
curtain of scarlet, purple, and white, “ embroidered 
with the constellations of the heavens ; ” while the double 
doors in front of it were covered with plates of gold, 
and surmounted by an immense and far-famed vine of 
gold. 

Rigid adherence to the dimensions of Solomon’s Temple 
had limited the size of the sacred chambers ; but 
externally the priests had not considered themselves thus 
bound. That the Sanctuary might have a more imposing 
aspect, and that its proportions might be brought into 
better keeping with those of Herod’s magnificent cloisters 
in the outer court, the ecclesiastical builders, in renovating 
the Holy House, had sought to enlarge it by building a 
wide and lofty porch in front of its gold-plated doors, 
which at once rose far above the Sanctuary, and, in the 
form of wings, extended out to some distance on either 
side. This extensive vestibule was itself without gate or 


THE STORY_ OE THE MESSIAH. 


31 


door, a high and spacious arch giving admittance to the 
officiating priests. 

These and many other details in connection with the 
sacred buildings, however, the visitors from Bethlehem 
were unable to examine at any length till later in the day. 
Their immediate errand led them to the spot where Joseph 
and Miriam waited for their turn to make the needful 
purification offering, and to present their child to the Lord. 
Pausing not, therefore, to admire the magnificence of the 
outer cloisters, nor to gaze at the shining walls of the 
Holy House, showing through the various gateways, Sal- 
mon led his sons into the court of the women, and up the 
broad flight of steps to the portico of the Nicanor gate. 

They arrived none too soon ; for, as they came up, a 
group of Levites passed out between the great brazen 
doors to the portico, where those from Bethlehem, and 
others on similar errands, were waiting, received from 
Miriam a pair of doves, and returning through the vaulted 
archway, delivered the offerings to the officiating priests. 
While the innocent victims were meeting their fate, Miriam, 
as was customary on such occasions, began a chant of 
thanksgiving ; but instead of repeating one of the ancient 
praise psalms of her people, her joy expressed itself, to the 
surprise of those about her, in the words that were born in 
her mind shortly after learning from the heavenly messen- 
ger of the great honour in store for her. 

“ My soul doth magnify the Lord,” 

she broke forth, 

“ And my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Saviour. 

For He hath looked upon the low estate of His handmaiden ; 

For behold, from henceforth all nations shall call me blessed.’ 

And so on through the whole Magnificat. 

Presently, the blood of the doves having been sprinkled 


S2 


EMMANUEL ; 


on the great altar, a barefooted priest approached through 
the archway, his robe of office upon him. This was a high 
cap of fine linen, and a short double garment, known as 
the ephod, half of which was for the front of the person, 
half for the rear, the two parts being clasped together on 
the shoulders with precious stones and bound to the body 
by a beautiful girdle, curiously worked with blue, purple, 
and scarlet. After a word or two of explanation from 
Joseph, he took from Miriam’s arms the infant Jesus. 

“Which wilt thou do, Joseph Bar-Jacob?” he said; 
“ give up thy first-born, or redeem him for five shekels? ” 

“This is my first-born,” responded Joseph; “here, 
take unto thee the five shekels due for his redemption.” 

Whereupon the priest, still holding the child, received 
the money into his free hand, and continued : “ This 

child is instead of this money, and this money instead of 
this child ; may this child be brought to life, to the law, 
and to the fear of heaven. God make thee as Ephraim 
and Manasseh,” returning the babe to his mother’s arms ; 
and laying his hands upon his head, “ the Lord bless thee 
and preserve thee. The Lord lift up His countenance 
upon thee and give thee peace.” 

The rite thus completed, the priest returned to the altar 
court. But as Joseph and Miriam were about to go their 
way, they were detained. While the priest had been 
speaking, an old man had wearily climbed the steps, and 
entering the spacious gateway had come near the group 
from Bethlehem, with feeble but eager tread. It was the 
aged Simon, well known for his piety and for his firm faith 
in the near approach of Israel’s day of deliverance. Often 
had he scanned as now the groups of parents who pre- 
sented their first-born to the Lord ; most constant had 
been his search for that infant Messiah, whom it had been 
revealed to him he was to see before his death. His 
expectation had been especially keen since that memorable 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


33 


morning, over a year before, when the plain country priest, 
Zachariah by name, whose lot it was that day to offer 
the incense, came forth from the Holy Place, speechless, 
and manifestly excited over some heavenly manifestation. 
This time, as he listened to the familiar formula, he did 
not turn away disappointed ; at last the desire of years 
was met, and the prayers of many days and nights 
answered ; he had found the Messiah. Approaching 
Miriam with quick step and rapt face, he took the little 
one from the wondering mother’s arms. 

“ Now lettest thou Thy servant depart, O Lord,” 
he exclaimed, with uplifted face, 

“ According to Thy word , in peace ; 

For mine eyes have seen Thy salvation, 

Which Thou hast prepared before the face of all peoples ; 

A light for revelation to the Gentiles, 

And the glory of Thy people Israel.” 

Then, turning to the astonished parents, he gave them 
his blessing. 

“ Behold,” he added, speaking to Miriam, “ this 
child is set for the falling and rising of many in Israel, 
and for a sign which is spoken against ; yea, and a sword 
shall pierce through thine own soul, that the thoughts out 
of many hearts may be revealed.” 

With slow step and peaceful brow Simon then passed 
on into the court of Israel. 

A like thanksgiving to God and prophetic tribute to the 
little babe was made by an aged widow, Anna by name, 
who had drawn near and listened with rapt countenance to 
the old man’s prediction. She was well known to Temple 
worshippers, and, as extremely devout, was held in great 
reverence, and believed to be gifted with the power of 
prophecy. When, therefore, after Joseph and Miriam 


34 


EMMANUEL ; 


had taken their departure, Anna turned to the remaining 
women, and told them that that little child would one day 
walk those courts as the Lord’s Messiah and the Saviour 
of Israel, these listened gladly to her prophecy, and re- 
turned to their homes with exulting hearts. 

Salmon and his sons tarried for a moment in the 
women’s court, for Asahel’s roving eyes had caught sight 
of the great golden eagle on the front of the gate’s marble 
portico. 

“ That,” said Salmon, his Jewish fire flaming up, while 
his countenance darkened, “ that is the hateful Roman 
eagle with which that Idumasan dog,” glancing around ap- 
prehensively to see if he were overheard, for Herod had an 
army of spies scattered through the city, “that ravening 
beast from the desert who misrules Israel, — perish the day 
whereon he was born ! — hath polluted the house of the 
Lord. It was not enough for the tyrant to erect his 
heathen towers and palaces, and insult Jerusalem and all 
Israel with a vile theatre and amphitheatre ; it was not 
enough for him to fill the streets of the Holy City and the 
court of the Gentiles with foreigners and their renegade 
imitators ; but he must needs affront the God of Israel in 
His own courts, and bring a heathen image, the emblem 
of his Roman masters, into the Lord’s house, and place it 
over the selfsame gate where formerly hung the hand of 
that Syrian dog, Nicanor. Ye know, my sons, how that 
wicked general who dared to wag his hand in threat against 
Jerusalem and this Holy House was slain by the Lord’s 
servant, Judah Bar-Mattathiah, and his severed hand hung 
up in triumph over this gate. Look well, my children, on 
that glittering eagle ; for in it, and in our inability to re- 
move it, ye see the sign of Israel’s fall. Oh for another 
Judah the Maccabee to lead the faithful against the 
usurper, and purge the land of his abominations, from 
Jericho to the Uttermost Sea ! ” 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH 


35 


Salmon little thought, as he gazed up at the gilded bird 
with such hot indignation, that hardly a month was to pass 
before that eagle would be cast down, and in its fall crush 
the scions of some of the noblest families in Jerusalem. 

It would be difficult to follow the steps of the two boys 
and their father in the hours intervening between their 
morning visit to the Temple and their return to Bethlehem. 
The lads remembered the wonderful scenes but imperfectly 
afterwards. Their impressions of Jerusalem for some time 
consisted principally of a confused mass of images, of 
great walls, narrow, noisy streets, and crowds of people. 
But amidst the confusion in their memory, the first view 
of the city from the south and the presentation scene at 
the Nicanor gate stood out clear and distinct. And there 
was one other such in that day’s experiences. 

They had been to the Temple with their father a second 
time, and, on returning to Mount Zion, — the upper city, — 
had crossed the Xystus, a large colonnaded enclosure for 
popular assemblies, and were walking somewhat wearily 
and listlessly along Temple street, when, just as they were 
about to cross the busy thoroughfare leading down from 
the northern city-gate, a small, but striking, caravan 
rounded the corner and intercepted their progress. It con- 
sisted of about half a dozen camels, most of them with 
riders, moving in single file, and followed by a throng of 
city people, who plainly were in the train simply from 
curiosity. On each of the three foremost camels sat a 
man of foreign nationality and venerable appearance. 
One might have taken the three for devout rabbis, come 
from Babylon to worship in the Holy City, for a certain 
Eastern look about their dress and the trappings of their 
animals, together with their swarthy faces, argued for 
them a far Eastern home ; but the quick eyes of the people 
instantly detected that the strangers did not wear the pre- 
scribed sacred fringe and blue cord on their, garments. 


36 


EMMANUEL ; 


Moreover, their clothing was more highly ornamented and 
more richly coloured than that likely to be chosen by a 
devout Rabbi coming up to the Temple of his people ; while 
the necks of their camels were decorated with the collars 
of brightly coloured leather, ornamented with crescent- 
shaped shells, which betokened some connection with 
those heathen who worshipped the moon and the stars. 

It was for none of these reasons, however, that a crowd 
followed in the train of the venerable travellers. Strangers 
were common enough in Jerusalem in those days, — strangers, 
too, who, like those leading the crowd into Temple street, 
were richly dressed, attended by servants and much baggage, 
and mounted on camels of highest value. It was the 
question addressed by the travellers to the soldiers at the 
gate, and to several groups of citizens south of it, which 
excited the wonder and intense interest of the crowd. In 
each case the question was the same ; in each case, also, 
it failed to elicit certain desired information. The leader 
of the three, a man of noble countenance and bearing, 
when the soft, springing step of his camel had brought him 
around the corner and face to face with a new company of 
spectators, halted and reiterated his remarkable inquiry. 

“ Good people,” he said, “ can one of you direct us in 
our search? Where is he that is born King of the Jews? 
For we saw his star in the east, and are come to worship 
him.” 

There was no answer ; men looked at each other in as- 
tonishment. The venerable rider glanced back at his com- 
panions ; then the little caravan moved on down the street, 
with soft, stately tread, till the khan was gained. Dis- 
mounting at the gate of this, and surrendering their camels 
to their servants, who led them into the open court within, 
the travellers themselves retired to one of the arched 
recesses, called lewens, with which the court was sur- 
rounded. They were not unaccompanied ; the crowd 


THE STOET OF THE MESSIAH. 


37 


followed them still and gathered in a dense mass at the 
open end of the lewen, burning with interest to know more 
about the strangers and their mission ; but their story had 
been told already. In the east they had seen the star of 
the new-born King of Israel, and were come to worship 
him — that was all. Salmon and his son gazed on the new- 
comers for some time wonderingly like the rest ; then, 
catching sight of the sun well down in the western sky, 
they hurriedly left the khan and returned to their friends. 
Soon the whole company was passing under the shadow of 
the Hippicus tower, and through the western, or Gennath, 
gate. They left the city with reluctance, notwithstanding 
their weariness, for all would have been glad to hear more 
of the mysterious visitors from the East and their aston- 
ishing quest. With Asahel and Thoma, on their homeward 
way, silence replaced the demonstrative enthusiasm of the 
morning, — silence, partly from weariness, partly from 
mental preoccupation. They walked side by side in the 
rear of the company with scarcely a word till nearly two 
hours had passed ; until, in fact, they had passed the small 
stone structure marking the spot where Jacob buried his 
beloved Rachel, and were consequently not far from 
Bethlehem. By this time the sun had left them in the 
shadow, though it still shone on the hills eastward, and 
covered the mountains of Moab beyond with a veil of gold. 
With the deepening of the shadows about them, the boys 
walked closer together. 

“Judah, my brother,” said the elder finally, in a low 
voice, looking forward to the figure of Miriam, “dost 
thou verily believe that little babe can be the Messiah? ” 

“ Surely, my brother, he is the Messiah,” returned 
Thoma quickly. “ Thinkest thou not so? Dost thou 
forget the angels who came to us that night at the sheep- 
fold?’’ 

“Yea, Judah, I remember. Indeed, it must be as thou 


38 


EMMANUEL ; 


sayest ; but — but why do people say so little about him ? 
Why do men not do him honour ? ” 

“ Hast thou forgotten the old man at the Beautiful 
Gate?” 

“ But, Judah, there was no one else to reverence him. 
Why did not the High Priest come to the Temple and 
bless him ? And why did not great men gather and bow 
before him?” 

Judah was silent. As usual his brother’s quicker mind 
had outrun his. Why was it, indeed, that the long-looked- 
for Deliverer excited no more attention ? Could it be that 
he was not really the Promised One ? No, not that ; an 
angel from heaven could not be mistaken. Then, why did 
not men believe in him, and bow before him as the shep- 
herds had done on that first night? But the queries found 
no answer, and presently the boy’s mind wandered back to 
the city and the many wonderful things he had seen in it ; 
and with thoughts of the mysterious strangers and their 
more mysterious errand he passed with his brother through 
the city portal of Bethlehem, which looked strangely small 
and mean after the massive gateways of Jerusalem. 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH, 


39 


CHAPTER III. 

THE GENTILES COME TO HIS LIGHT.^ 

Brightest and best of the sons of the moruing, 

Dawn on our darkness, and lend us thine aid ! 

Star of the East, the horizon adorning. 

Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid. 

Hebeb. 

T he story of the wealthy travellers from the East and 
their thrilling inquiry went through the city as on 
wings. It was the topic of conversation at the 
shops and in the bazaars ; it crossed the bridge and en- 
tered the Temple, and in an hour the priests before the 
Holy House were whispering it one to another. Men 
gathered at the street corners to talk it over, and women 
left their water-jars unfilled while they discussed the ex- 
citing news. 

Nor was the disturbance in the royal palace less real, if 
less demonstrative. Scarcely had the strangers alighted at 
the door of the khan, when a messenger from the officer in 
charge of the northern gate passed quickly between the gi- 
gantic, yellow-haired Gauls, keeping guard at the entrance 
to the king’s gardens on Mount Zion, and delivered a let- 
ter to the centurion on duty at the Pavement, for so the 
outer ornamented and cloistered palace court was called. 
Instantly the communication was passed on through vari- 
ous parts of the great building until it rested in the hands of 
Ptolemy, the king’s secretary and confidant. That func- 
tionary read it carefully; then with quick but noiseless 
tread passed through an archway adjoining, pushing aside 
the folds of a rich, heavy curtain as he went, and entered 


1 Matt. ii. 3-15. 


40 


EMMANUEL ; 


the royal presence. After dropping his hands upon his 
knees, and bending his head forward in deep obeisance, he 
crossed to where the king lay upon a divan, and placed 
the paper in his hands. Herod took it wearily and glanced 
at it in a listless way. For months few things had pos- 
sessed any interest for him ; indeed, life had become dis- 
tress and despair to the guilty monarch. As he read the 
message, however, the listless look vanished from his face, 
and in its stead a deep scowl appeared. 

“ What meaneth this ? ” he demanded harshly. 

“My lord,” Ptolemy replied, “your majesty knoweth 
all of the matter that I do. I know of it from the letter 
only.” 

“ How long since this was written?” glancing back at 
the paper. 

“It is but just arrived, sire.” 

Herod read the letter once more, and then gave his 
orders in his usual quiet but imperious tone. 

“Let those strangers be watched and questioned,” he 
said; “and let a full account of them — whence they 
came, and what they say and do — be brought to me be- 
fore night.” 

The secretary bowed low and turned to leave the room ; 
but before he had passed the curtained archway the king’s 
voice arrested him. 

“Stay, Ptolemy ; find out what tongue the men speak.” 

“ It shall be as my lord the king commands.” 

The secretar}" vanished, and Herod was alone. No, 
not alone ; it was becoming increasingly difficult for the 
dark-souled man to be alone. When his attendants left 
him without companions, his powerful fancy, spurred into 
activity by an awakening conscience, peopled his spacious 
halls and corridors with the forms of those feared, and 
perchance loved, in days gone by. It was a gloomy, 
bitter hour that the old king spent while his spies were out 


THE STOEY OF THE MESSIAH. 


41 


over the city collecting news. His thoughts, in time, made 
the luxurious ease of the divan intolerable to him, so that, 
laying hold of his staff, he slowly rose to his feet, and, 
driven by painful musings and forebodings, paced ‘feebly 
up and down the splendid apartment, where was to be 
found in greatest profusion whatever could minister to 
comfort, or delight the eye. Only when Herod was on his 
feet did it fully appear what a magnificent wreck he was. 
Magnificent it must be admitted ; for nature had made him 
for a king. Had a crown been his by right of birth, instead 
of his through boundless servility to foreign masters, ruth- 
less oppressions, and seas of blood, the historian might 
have had the pleasant task of writing the annals of a truly 
great and noble monarch, and posterity might have looked 
back with admiration instead of loathing on the figure of 
Herod, surnamed the Great. 

But if the old king was still magnificent, he was none 
the less a wreck. His attire was, indeed, rich enough to 
have suited the taste of the greatest Oriental potentate, 
and his palace spacious and splendid enough for Ciesar 
himself ; nevertheless, the master of all, the king, was a 
wreck, and none knew the fact better than Herod. The 
massive, high-arched head, with its deep eye-sockets, 
straight brows, and prominent nose, was still there ; but 
there had been sad changes wrought in the moulding of 
the once handsome countenance. The cheeks were thin 
and furrowed, the skin dry and, with the exception of 
certain ugly blotches of red and purple, sallow ; and, ex- 
cept where disease had rounded an angle with a swelling 
more repulsive than the gauntness, the skull seemed to 
look through its scanty covering. The broad mouth, for- 
merly so firm, and at times winning, had dropped into con- 
firmed moroseness, while the piercing eyes glared around 
with the hunted, desperate look of a wild beast. The 
once strong and active body, now bent with infirmity, was 


42 


EMMANUEL ; 


the seat of a constant, burning pain, and trembled as he 
walked with the weakness of approaching dissolution. A 
mighty beast of prey, sorely wounded, indeed, in the very 
throes of death, yet still facing its foes with defiance, and 
still capable in its dying hours of deeds of desperate ill, 
might fitly have represented the once splendid king as he 
painfully paced the luxurious chamber. 

When, with the return of the spies, Herod learned that 
the mysterious strangers were lodged at the khan ; that 
they spoke Greek, but neither Latin nor Hebrew, and but 
little Aramaic ; and that apparently their whole story was 
known already, — he was in great perplexity, and walked 
the floor with a tread more hurried and impatient than ever. 
Ptolemy and the attendants recognized the king’s humour, 
and silently withdrew. Soon the monarch’s stormy mood 
and feverish activity consumed his strength, and he was 
forced to drop once more on the divan, where he lay mo- 
tionless, his back supported by pillows, his great head 
sunken between his shoulders and resting on his chest, 
while his eyes were fixed on vacancy, staring perhaps at 
some object of memory rather than of sense. Half an 
hour passed, and the evening shadows began to gather in 
the curtained room, and still the king lay alone and silent, 
glowering at the wall before him. Reader, let us interro- 
gate that decrepit old man ; perchance we may learn what 
engrossing thoughts chain his attention. 

Why doth my lord Herod thus waste the precious time 
in supineness and gloomy reflections? Art thou so secure 
on thy throne, O king, that thou carest nothing for thy 
numberless foes? or art thou, at last, so beloved by the 
fierce Hebrew race that no competitor can bring thee 
peril? or can it be that King Herod is changed, indeed, in 
mind as well as body, so that he can tolerate now what he 
could never brook before, — a rival? 

And what seest thou, my lord, in the folds of yonder 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


43 


purple tapestry ? Doth its gold embroidery form pictures 
to thy mind of forms and scenes in the past? Dost thou 
see the figures of other rivals, all long since dead, the 
victims of thine own unsparing hand? Doth there arise 
before thee again the noble form of young Aristobulus, 
brother to thy wife and heir to the crown of Israel? Thou 
hast not forgotten him, doubtless, nor how the people 
admired him and hoped in him, nor how thou didst drown 
him at Jericho. ’Tis not he, my lord, nor son of his, 
whom the strangers have come to worship. 

Or art thou looking once more on the beautiful Mar- 
iamne, thy wife, the one whom thou didst love almost as 
thyself, and for whom thy wretched soul has been hunger- 
ing for a quarter of a century? Surely, O king, thou hast 
not forgotten that thine own hand sent her to execution in 
the presence of all Israel. Or is Herod thinking of his 
noble boys, Alexander and Aristobulus, sons of the idol- 
ized Mariamne? Wait not for them. King Herod; they 
were strangled, and by thee, these many years gone by. 
They will not come at thy bidding, nor will the mysterious 
travellers select and reverence either of them as thy suc- 
cessor. Then why should the king stare thus savagely at 
the purple tapestry and the gold embroidery ? Are not all 
his rivals dead? Hath he not slain every remaining man, 
woman, and child of the Asmonaian line who could possi- 
bly dispute with him the possession of his crown ? Is not 
even thy eldest son, Antipater, thy latest rival, a captive 
in prison, awaiting thy order to be led to death ? Whom 
then should Herod fear? What mattereth it whom these 
P^astern sages have come to worship ? The new-born King 
of the Jews, indeed ! Art not thou, and thou only, the 
king of the Jews? The child must be some impostor: 
what menace can he bring to the crown of the great 
Herod ? 

Then why doth the king glower on in the gathering 


44 


EMMANUEL ; 


gloom ? Doth my lord remember bitterly that the son of 
the meanest peasant would be crowned king in Jerusalem 
in an hour were the people but sure he could overthrow 
the cordially detested Herod ? But what is the hatred of 
the people to him who is supported by the omnipotent 
hand of Rome? What matters it if they raise an insur- 
rection? Will not the Romans quell it with small ado, 
and reinstate the house of Antipater? Ah, but thou seest 
that the Jews must be ruled and rivals crushed with little 
help from Rome; that, otherwise, the mistress of the 
world will conclude that she can dispense with a king of 
Judaea altogether, and rule the land herself ! Then why 
does Herod let slip the golden hours ? Let him rouse him- 
self from his gloomy reveries, and instantly search out 
this infant rival. 

The light had not entirely left the room when Herod, 
with a start, seemed suddenly to come to himself. Evi- 
dently some line of action was decided on ; for he clapped 
his hands together in quick succession, and when a ser- 
vant appeared bearing golden lamps which were hung up 
on either side of his couch, he ordered that Ptolemy should 
appear without delay. The secretary came ; but it was 
only to depart in a few moments with a royal mandate 
addressed to Mattathiah, the recently appointed High 
Priest. 

An hour later, in answer to a summons that brooked 
neither disobedience nor delay, there gathered in the upper 
city, at the palace of the High Priest, not far from the 
great bridge leading to the south side of the Temple, 
the supreme assembly of the Jews, the Great Sanhedrin. 
There, ranged in semicircular array, might have been seen 
the leading representatives of the wealth, the learning, and 
the piety of Israel. There were the chief priests, the 
leading lawyers, commonly called rabbis, or scribes, and 


THE STOEY OF THE MESSIAH. 


45 


the more prominent elders of the people. When all were 
in their places, the venerable Hillel, for over quarter of a 
century the Nasi of the Sanhedrin, presiding, a royal 
mandate convening the assembly, and stating the business 
to come before it, was read. From this document, it ap- 
peared that the king demanded of them immediate infor- 
mation as to the predicted birthplace of the Messiah. 
There was little time to speculate on the use the tyrant 
designed to make of the desired knowledge ; the king’s 
demand was explicit, imperious, and urgent, and no one 
dared to disregard it. So, though many present connected 
it with the inquiry of the strangers from the East, and 
would gladly have delayed or withheld the information, 
feeling instinctively that Herod could put it to evil uses 
only, no one ventured to keep back his opinion when called 
upon by the Nasi. Beginning at the youngest, one after 
another gave his answer, — all to the same effect, and 
substantially in the same language. 

“In Bethlehem of Judaea,” they said ; “ for thus it is 
written by the prophet : — 

“ And thou Bethlehem, land of Judah, 

Art in no wise least among the princes of Judah : 

For out of thee shall come forth a governor. 

Who shall be shepherd of my people Israel.” 

And this reply was the one sent by the hand of the wait- 
ing courier to the king. 

Herod looked up with surprise as his secretary entered 
with the message. 

“What, Ptolemy, so soon! Have those wrangling 
pedants agreed upon an answer already ? 1 thought I had 

set them fighting for the night.” 

“ There seems to have been but one opinion among 
them, my lord.” 

“ I might have known it. They are never agreed except 


46 


EMMANUEL ; 


in what is to my detriment ; in that they are always of one 
mind. ‘ In Bethlehem of Judaea,’ ” reading from the let- 
ter ; ‘ for thus it is written through the prophet’” — 

The remainder he perused in silence, and then once more 
glared and scowled at the tapestry. 

“ The gods do so to me, and more also,” he broke out 
suddenly, “ if I spoil not their prophecy before many days 
are past ! Ptolemy, send thou to the khan and have these 
strangers brought hither. I will talk with them, and, 
Ptolemy,” with an evil gleam in his eyes, “ I will give 
them some counsel.” 

Meanwhile, in the khan, the travellers from the East re- 
clined in the shelter of their lewen, gazed out through its 
open end into the deep-blue vault of the sky, in which, 
owing to the radiance of the rising moon, only the brighter 
orbs were visible, and discussed the reason for the disap- 
pearance of the star which had led them on, and the singu- 
lar ignorance of the people of Jerusalem in regard to their 
new king. Suddenly the figure of a man appeared in front 
of them. 

“ Peace be unto you, noble sirs,” it said to them. “ Are 
ye not the strangers from the East seeking him who is 
born King of the Jews?” 

“We are,” came the reply from the darkness within; 
“what wouldest thou with us?” 

“ My lord. King Herod, sendeth you greeting, and bid- 
deth you come to him at the palace forthwith.” 

Within the recess a few words were exchanged in a for- 
eign tongue, and then the three strangers appeared, and fol- 
lowed the royal messenger and the quaternion of soldiers 
accompanying him to the palace gate. Thence they were 
conducted through beautiful and spacious gardens, where 
the soft murmur of many fountains springing and plash- 
ing from brazen statues greeted the ear, and where the 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


47 


fair bloom of the earlier fruit-trees and flowering shrubs 
was partially \dsible in the moonlight, while their fragrance 
was borne along on every breeze. Then an imposing por- 
tico, marble halls, and lofty cloisters, the noble colonnades 
and brilliant frescoes of which rivalled the magnificence of 
Rome itself, received them, until, finally, they were ushered 
into the richly appointed apartment already mentioned, 
where lay Herod the king, fighting a hopeless battle with 
death. The strangers immediately bent their heads for- 
ward, dropped on their knees, and slowly bowed them- 
selves till their faces touched the floor. During this 
Oriental obeisance, Herod succeeded in mastering himself 
sufficiently to banish from his countenance the expression 
of savage moroseness which had become habitual to it, 
and to recall for the time much of the graciousness of 
bearing which had once been perfectly at his command. 

“ Rise, noble strangers from afar, and be ye seated,” 
he said, motioning toward the servants who had appeared 
with costly rugs for the use of the guests ; “ Herod bids 
you welcome to Jerusalem.” 

“ My officer, the captain of the northern gate,” the king 
went on when the three had seated themselves, ‘ ‘ tells me 
that ye inquired of him where ye might find the new-born 
King of the Jews.” 

“Yea, my Lord, it is even as the king hath said,” re- 
sponded the senior traveller. 

“Ye have taken us by surprise, noble and learned sirs. 
We in Jerusalem know of no such king, and would pro- 
pound to you your own query, Where is he ? Nor are we 
expecting the birth of a king, except, indeed, the God of 
our fathers be pleased to send us the Messiah. Is it he 
whom ye seek, sirs, and have ye learned, of a truth, that 
he is born ? ” 

The senior stranger once more bowed himself to the floor. 

“ O king, live forever ! ” Herod with difficulty repressed 


48 


EMMANUEL ; 


an expression of wrath at a salutation so like merciless 
irony. “Be it known unto thee, O most illustrious Herod, 
whose fame is gone out into all the earth, that in our home, 
far beyond the Eastern desert, thy servants belong to that 
learned class, the studies of which lead them to scan the 
heavens, and to forecast from the stars the destinies of 
men and nations. It is now nearly three years, O king, 
since the remarkable position and brilliancy of two promi- 
nent stars attracted the attention of thy servants. To our 
eyes this conjunction plainly portended some great event ; 
but we will not conceal it from thee that all our learning 
failed to tell us more. Furthermore, though those stars 
approached each other three times that year, and the year 
following were joined by a third, and a little later these by 
a fourth, — a new star of mysterious and sparkling beauty, 
throwing off rays of many colours like some great diamond, 

— yet were we unable to read their message, save only, O 
renowned Herod, that thy servants did not doubt that the 
birth of a great king was at hand. But blessed be the 
Almighty God, who is Lord over all the gods of the na- 
tions, we were not left without guidance from on high ! It 
chanced one day, while the longing to discover the star- 
heralded monarch was still strong within us, that we heard 
two Jews bewailing the fallen state of their nation [Herod’s 
brow darkened] and speaking of the hoped-for advent of 
their Messiah. Whoso knoweth the Jews, thy people, sire, 

— and what man in the East knoweth them not ? — hath 
heard of the great Deliverer, long promised by their 
prophets, yet still withheld, for whom they hope and 
pray. 

“ Now behold, O King Herod, whom all men fear and 
honour, while our minds were yet filled with the thought of 
Israel’s Promised One, there came to each of thy servants 
a dream, in which we saw ourselves journeying far to the 
west, following a beautiful star, till we stood by the side 


THE STOBY OF THE MESSIAH. 


49 


of a young child, who, we felt, was the long-promised 
King and Deliverer of the Jews. We awoke, my lord, to 
question no more about the significance of the starry 
cluster in the heavens ; we awoke, impelled more and more, 
as the days went by, by a power from above to go in 
search of the infant King of Israel. Furthermore, be it 
known unto my lord, that, when we had loaded our 
camels and started at evening time on our westward way, 
we had scarcely left the gates of our city, when, lo ! the 
star seen in our visions appeared in the sky before us ; and 
there it hath appeared ever since, night after night, lead- 
ing us on till we arrived here in Jerusalem. And, more- 
over, this night is the first on which it hath failed us.” 

The venerable speaker paused, encountered for a mo- 
ment the keen, half-dismayed, half-scornful gaze of the 
monarch, and then, with a new obeisance, continued : — 
‘‘And now, O mighty Herod, before whom we are as 
worms, if thy servants have found grace in thy sight, 
will my lord be pleased to grant us his powerful aid in our 
search, that we may find him whom we seek? ” 

During this recital Herod’s resolution had wavered 
momentarily. The superstitious depths in him, corre- 
sponding to the religious nature of others, were stirred by 
the wonderful story. His vacillation was brief, however ; 
for why should the man who had ridden rough-sho<l over 
the forms of those nearest and dearest to him hesitate 
when only an obscure child lay in the way? 

He eyed his visitors sharply for an instant, and then 
demanded : “At what time said ye that the star first 
appeared ? ” 

“ Sire, the star that led us hither appeared nearly three 
months ago ; but it is a year and a half, my lord, since 
first we saw that lofty twinkling orb which told us of the 
near approach of a great king’s advent.” 

“ Wise and highly favoured strangers,” Herod rejoined. 


60 


EMMANUEL ; 


with his former gracious air and tone, “ ye bring us won- 
derful tidings from the East. All Israel will rejoice at 
your story. The aid ye ask shall be willingly granted. 
Know, then, that I have inquired of our learned men 
where the Messiah should be born, and they answer with 
one accord, ‘In Bethlehem of Judaea.’ Go ye, therefore, 
noble sirs, to Bethlehem, and search out carefully concern- 
ing the young child, and when ye have found him, bring 
me word, that I also may come and worship him. Herod 
knoweth well that his days are numbered. No fear of a 
possible rival shall prevent me giving honour and aid to the 
new King. Men will yet see that Herod’s thought was 
ever first of his country and his people ; afterward of 
himself.” 

Thereupon, at the king’s command, a fine silk robe and 
a chain of gold were thrown over the shoulders of each of 
the learned travellers, or Magi, and the latter, with a final 
prostration, arose and withdrew. 


The sun was just disappearing behind the western hills, 
on the day following, when the Magi left the walls of 
Jerusalem in the rear, and filed in stately line across the 
valley of Gihon. On passing the great pool in the valley, 
and rising to the plain of Rephaim — the Valley of Giants 
— their exclamations of delight and songs of praise broke 
forth again ; for there, before them, apparently not far 
away, shone the star which had led them so long ; and it 
shone, as it seemed to them, with greater lustre than ever. 
Then, indeed, they felt their pilgrimage to be near its end, 
and pressed forward at the best speed of which their 
camels were capable. 

As the Magi were leaving the Holy City, a number of 
elders and chief citizens sat at the north gate of Bethle- 
hem, listening to Salmon’s account of his meeting with the 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


51 


wise men at Jerusalem; and gathered about David’s well 
near by was the usual group of women with their water- 
jars. Presently, the attention of men and women alike 
was attracted by an unusual clatter on the stony roadway. 
It was caused by a promiscuous drove of some fifteen or 
twenty donkeys running up toward the gate, each with a 
saddle, a sack, and a rope fastened to its back, a group 
of noisy drivers at their heels. Donkeys and men swept 
by like a small tornado, paying no attention to the women 
watching them, but halting at the gateway before the 
seated elders. 

“ Know ye, fathers of Israel,” said one of the grain- 
buyers, — for such they were, — “that the Messiah is 
born ? ” 

“Nay, verily, my son,” exclaimed Jesse, while his com- 
panions bent forward eagerly. “ Sayest thou so? Now 
praised be God ! Where is he, my son? ” 

“ Truly, sir,” replied the muleteer, “ thou hast asked 
what all Jerusalem asketh. I doubt not Herod will weigh 
thee out a talent of gold if thou wilt answer him that same 
question ; ” and shouting to his donkeys the man started 
forward into the towm. 

“ But, my son, how knowest thou, then, that the Mes- 
siah is born? ” returned Jesse quickly. 

‘ ‘ I said not I knew it at all ; I but asked thee didst 
thou know it.” Then seeing signs of wrath on old Jesse’s 
face, he halted again, and continued: “Ye must know, 
fathers of Israel, that yesterday, about the ninth hour, 
came certain strangers from the East to Jerusalem, asking 
of all men, ‘ Where is he that is born King of the Jews? ’ 
and saying that they had seen his star in the east, and 
were come to worship him. And, lo ! one-half the city 
believe already that the" Deliverer is come at last; even 
old Herod was so stirred up that he convened the Sanhe- 
drin, and demanded where the Messiah should be born.” 


52 


EMMANUEL ; 


“And what answer returned the teachers of Israel?” 
broke in Salmon quickly. 

“ Men say, ‘Bethlehem of Judiea ; ’ but since ye, men 
of Ephrath, know nothing of this Christ, I will believe in 
him when I see him.” 

“ Salmon, my son, ’tis thy story over again,” said 
Jesse, as the driver hastened down the street after his 
comrades. 

Salmon did not disclose the conviction already firm in 
his mind. The inquiry of Herod had cast a flood of light 
for him upon the quest of the mysterious strangers. He 
no longer doubted whom they were seeking ; but, having 
on former occasions encountered the scepticism of his 
fellow-townsmen as to the just claims of the babe in his 
own house, he now kept silence, waiting for what was 
doubtless soon to follow. 

The light departed from Herod’s palace-stronghold on the 
hill eastward, dusk gathered in the valley, and the streets 
of the town filled with gloom. The women with their 
water-jars filed through the gate, the elders about the 
portal arose and, girding their talliths around them, re- 
tired to their homes, and silence and darkness enveloped 
the village, nestling so securely on its hill-top. It was a 
silence broken only by the occasional bleat of a sheep, or 
the howl of a scavenger dog ; and a darkness pierced only 
by the mild radiance of the stars, the moon being not yet 
risen. One of these bright heavenly lamps there was 
whose light was so steady and so brilliant, and the posi- 
tion of which was so directly over, and seemingly so little 
above, the clustered houses of Bethlehem, that no one 
there could have failed to wonder at and admire it had 
he looked skyward at all. But no one in Bethlehem 
turned his gaze far enough heavenward that evening to 
see its beauty or marvel over its significance. Men are 
too familiar with the splendour of the heavens to have much 


THE SrOBY OF THE 3IESSIAH. 


53 


interest in them. True, a former citizen of Bethlehem had 
maintained that “ the heavens declare the glory of God ; ” 
but the Bethlehem of Herod’s day was either of a different 
opinion, or cared little for that sort of glory. So, though 
the mysterious star shed its pure, bright beams with steady 
profusion on every dwelling in the town, and on the 
regions round about, the appreciation and enjoyment of 
it, as so often with God’s brightest gifts, was the sole pos- 
session of a few travellers, who with eyes fixed on the 
shining spot were journeying southward from Jerusalem. 

Less than an hour after dark, a rap at the door called 
Salmon into the street. There he found Mattathiah, the 
watchman, behind whom, in the strange, soft light illumin- 
ing the doorway, appeared the huge forms of a number of 
camels and riders. 

“ My lord,” said Mattathiah, “ here are the noble stran- 
gers from the lands of the East of whom we heard to-day. 
They seek a new-born babe in Bethlehem ; and I know not 
whither to direct them, if not to thy house, Ben-Eliab.” 

“ This is the house,” said a deep, musical voice behind 
the watchman ; “ the star is directly overhead.” 

Salmon’s glance followed that of the speaker, and he 
saw the source of the singular light in the street. There 
was, as it were, a lamp let down from heaven and suspended 
directly over his doorway, — a light shedding a fair, gentle 
radiance. In the midst of his astonished gaze, the same 
deep voice came to him from the back of the nearest 
camel : — 

“ Friend, wilt thou not lead us to him who is born King 
of the Jews? ” 

“ Indeed, noble sir,” was the quick reply in the little 
Greek at Salmon’s command, “ thou sayest I will. Let 
my lords now dismount and enter the house of their ser- 
vant, and they shall behold Israel’s Messiah, indeed.” 

The travellers stopped not for further parley ; but. 


54 


EMMANUEL ; 


forcing their camels to kneel, dismounted forthwith, and 
followed their host into the house. When they stood 
within the lighted interior, and saw fair, young Miriam 
with the infant Jesus in her arms, the swarthy, venerable 
faces of the strangers lighted up with gladness. It was 
true, there was nothing external to mark out the little 
child as an infant King, or to distinguish him as remark- 
able among the promising children of comely Jewish 
mothers ; but the Magi had not taken their long journey 
on external signs alone. An influence from above had 
moved them hitherto, and that influence did not fail to testify 
within them now that their quest was at an end, and the 
Messiah found. Then, indeed. King Herod might have 
had ground for jealousy ; for the noble strangers gave the 
unconscious infant a reverence greater in degree, and far 
more sincere in character, than that yielded by them to 
the proud monarch at Jerusalem ; and opening their 
treasures, they gave the new King gifts from the choicest 
in their store, — gold and frankincense and myrrh. 

Late in the evening, after answering many a wondering 
question from Salmon and Joseph, and learning from the 
latter the bright story of the babe’s brief life, the Magi 
sought the shelter of the khan, whither their servants had 
preceded them. The star was still burning brightly over- 
head as they passed down the street. When, the next 
morning, they presented themselves to do honour once more 
to the child Jesus, it was with camels saddled and loaded, 
ready for a journey. In explanation of their quick depart- 
ure, they said that in the night God had warned them in 
a dream not to return to Herod, but to go back to their 
own country by another way. If they tarried longer, they 
feared the king would oblige them to report to him at 
Jerusalem. After renewed prostrations, therefore, they 
departed over the hills of the wilderness toward Jericho. 

During that day there was no lack of visitors at Sal- 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


55 


men’s house ; for the story of the Magi’s visit, and Herod’s 
interest in the matter, had revived the original half belief 
in the Messiahship of Miriam’s child. During the evening, 
too, there was no lack of eyes turned skyward ; but no 
wonderful star delighted the curious observers. Never- 
theless, the house of Salmon was not without notice from 
on high. Late in the night Joseph waked his host. 

“ Salmon, my lord, send now thy servant away in peace, 
I pray thee ; for an angel hath appeared to me this night, 
saying, ‘ Arise, and take the young child and his mother, 
and flee into Egypt, and be thou there until I tell thee ; for 
Herod will seek the young child to destroy him.’ ” 

Salmon, though startled by the sudden request, did 
not demur. 

“Herod!” he muttered, as he made ready the ass on 
which Miriam was to ride; “yea, verily, Herod! Was 
there ever a thing good or beautiful in Israel which he did 
not seek to destroy? Truly, seeing that he hath heard of 
the little child, he would not be the wild beast he is did 
he not seek to kill him.” 

So there were sad and hasty adieus said in the darkness 
of the early morning ; and then the holy family, with Sal- 
mon as guide, passed down the street, out through a pri- 
vate gate, and off to the west to the road from Jerusalem 
to Hebron. Turning southward then, they reached Solo- 
mon’s pools just as the flrst rays of the dawn began to 
lift a gray curtain in the east, and to vie with the moon- 
light on the surface of the broad sheets of water lying 
between the hills ; but it was the middle of the forenoon 
before they wound through the leafless vineyards and 
blossom-sprinkled orchards of Hebron, and rested at the 
khan within its walls. Here they found the people in ani- 
mated discussion of the news from Jerusalem, about the 
coming of the Magi and the anxiety of Herod. Remem- 
bering, however, the warning of the angel, they said 


56 


EMMANUEL ; 


nothing of the precious charge in their care ; but, in the 
course of the afternoon, resumed their journey. At the 
city gate Salmon regretfully parted with his friends, and, 
after urging Joseph to return to Bethlehem as soon as he 
could do so safely, and exchanging parting salutations 
with him, turned his face toward Bethlehem again, while 
Joseph and Miriam climbed the hill westward, and de- 
scended to Betogabra in the plain of Philistria, the town 
afterward so widely known as Eleutheropolis. 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH 


57 


CHAPTER ly. 

DARK DAYS AT BETHLEHEM.^ 

Say, ye celestial guards, who wait 
In Bethlehem, round the Saviour’s palace gate, — 

Say, who are these on golden wings 
That hover o’er the new-born King of kings, 

Their palms and garlands telling plain 
That they are of the glorious martyr train, 

Next to yourselves ordained to praise 
His name, and brighten as on Him they gaze? 

Keble. 

T here are scenes in the history of the past which 
the historian would willingly omit from his pages, 
and to which the lover of his kind would gladly shut 
his eyes. Deeds there have been, all too often, in the life 
of the race, so stained with blood, so black with human 
malignity, so foul with human corruption, that one shud- 
ders at the recital of them, and is almost ready to despair 
of the future of mankind. Such a deed of gratuitous 
malignity and savage cruelty was perpetrated in the town 
of Bethlehem a few days after the flight of Joseph and the 
infant Christ. It would And no place in these pages were 
it not for its connection with the Messiah, and its influence 
on the development of the boys Asahel and Thoma. 

The morning was dark and stormy ; the clouds hung 
low over the hills of Judaea, and completely shut out any 
distant prospect ; the rain, which had set in heavily the 
evening before, still fell in torrents, and the roads in 
many places were covered with standing water. But rain 
and mud formed slight obstacles to a body of soldiers 
moving southward from Jerusalem. They were a German 


1 Matt. ii. 16-18. 


68 


EMMANUEL ; 


detachment of the king’s troops, and came marching up 
the hill and through the gate of Bethlehem with perfect 
indifference to the inclemency of the weather and the 
wondering regard of the townspeople. A quaternion was 
stationed at the north gate, and as many more at each of 
the others ; the remainder marched into the heart of the 
town. Much the people marvelled at their appearance ; 
not only at their Roman arms, helmet, coat of mail, and 
buckler, ponderous javelin, and two-edged sword, but 
even more at the persons of the soldiers. The gigantic 
limbs of the huge barbarians ; their simple, rude garb ; 
their fiery red hair, bound up in a knot ; their fair com- 
plexion and fierce blue eyes, — excited at once the astonish- 
ment and the fear of the villagers. But when the centurion 
read aloud the order of Herod, that every child in Beth- 
lehem under two years of age should be put to death, all 
other sentiments were swallowed up in the dismay, horror, 
and hot indignation which ensued. The scenes following 
the reading of the royal mandate need not be depicted. 
Suffice it to say that the dripping swords of the legionaries 
and the lifeless forms of the little ones ; the hasty conceal- 
ment of the threatened children in caves and cisterns, from 
which they were, with few exceptions, speedily drawn out 
by the ruthless soldiery ; the passionate resistance of 
fathers, generally ended by one all-sufficient blow from a 
barbarian fist ; the heartrending wailing of mothers over 
their slain infants, — all made an indelible impression on 
the minds of Thoma and his brother, who that day took 
their first bitter lesson in the school of tyranny, and 
learned to the full why men could hear the name of Herod 
only with loathing and execration. 

The barbarian troop departed, leaving a dozen or fifteen 
dead children behind them as sorrowful mementoes of 
their visit; but all Bethlehem felt itself bereaved. It 
seemed to the outraged town as though every house werr 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


59 


desolate ; and bitter were the curses heaped upon the 
king’s head, and wild and despairing the lamentation 
rising toward heaven. It was like the lamentation spoken 
of by Jeremiah the prophet, who in imagination saw 
Rachel weeping over the slaughter and the forced exile of 
her children by the Babylonians : — 

“ A voice was heard in Ramah, 

Weeping and great mourning, 

Rachel weeping for her children ; 

And she would not be comforted, because they are not.” 


A few weeks later word came down from Jerusalem that 
certain young men, zealous for the law, and instigated by 
two noted Rabbis, had torn down the great golden eagle 
which was over the gate of Nicanor, and cut it in pieces 
in the streets of the city ; whereupon, the soldiers had been 
let loose upon them, and had captured many of them, and 
that Herod had burnt their leaders alive. But this news, 
which caused such excitement elsewhere in Judaea, awak- 
ened little response in Bethlehem. Her citizens felt that 
their cup was already full ; they could not more deeply 
execrate the tyrant, and in their great sorrow they had 
little sympathy to spare for the lesser afflictions of others. 

It was not till the news came — as come it did before 
many days — that Herod, the wild beast from the desert, 
the terror and the abhorrence of Israel, was dead, that 
Bethlehem would think of consolation. Then, indeed, 
there was general satisfaction of a stern sort, and many 
an ejaculation of thanksgiving. And when the magnifi- 
cent funeral train, with all the pomp of royal honours, 
wealth, and military escort, wound over the hills from Jeri- 
cho to the Herodium, the whole population of Bethlehem 
flocked out to gaze upon the splendid pageant, and espe- 
cially to gloat over the jewel-studded bier which bore the 
body, the crown, and the sceptre of their oppressor. 


60 


EMMANUEL ; 


The year during which the infant Messiah sojourned in 
Egypt, crowded as it w^as with stirring events, may be 
passed over with slight notice. 

The marriage of Sarah, daughter of Salmon, to Ithamar, 
of the lineage of David, which took place just before the 
Passover, came too soon after Bethlehem’s great calamity to 
be marked by much festivity. It created scarcely a ripple 
in the dark current of passion which was flowing swiftly in 
the town, — so swiftly, indeed, that before long the stream 
burst all bounds and broke in fury at the gates of the 
royal palace itself. It was not strange, after the atrocious 
deeds done in Bethlehem at the king’s command, that many 
of her citizens turned rebels at the first opportunity. 
When Archelaus, assuming the authority of his father 
Herod, sent forth the soldiers, drove the fanatical Jews 
from the Temple, and dispersed the multitudes assembling 
for the Passover celebration, emphasizing his command to 
return to their homes by the slaughter of three thousand 
of them ; and when on his departure to Rome to secure 
from Caesar the crown of his father, Sabinus, Procurator 
of Syria, came up to the Holy City with a legion of sol- 
diers to confiscate the royal treasures and those of the 
Temple, — it was not strange that Salmon and many other 
Bethlehemites were among the crowds which swarmed up 
to Jerusalem to defend the house of the Lord, and to 
wreak vengeance on the unscrupulous Roman robber. Nor 
was it matter for surprise that, when Salmon saw that the 
zeal and valour of his countrymen were of no avail against 
the disciplined might of the Romans ; when he was himself 
one of those driven back by the world’s conquerors as 
they forced their way through the streets to the Temple, 
and was a witness of the sacrifice of his comrades on the 
north cloister of the outer court, when the flames applied 
by the soldiers to the cedar roof wrapped its brave defend- 
ers m a fiery winding-sheet, or forced them dowm on the 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


G1 


swords of their foes, — it was not matter for surprise 
that rage and hatred truly ungovernable took possession 
of him. Hence it was that, when, following upon the 
plundering of the sanctuary, and the defilement of the 
sacred courts by Gentile tread and despoilment, a furious 
multitude gathered around the palace and laid siege to 
it, Salmon specially distinguished himself by his activity 
and zeal, — to such a degree, indeed, that not a few on both 
sides remembered long the prominent part he took in the 
attack. His ardour was not abated by the news which came 
to him from Bethlehem, that one of the robber bands 
roaming over the country had swept away the greater part 
of his flock and herds. When suddenly Varus, Prefect 
of Syria, appeared on the scene with an army to which 
resistance was idle, and Jerusalem submitted without a 
struggle, laying all the blame on the strangers from the 
country, Salmon did, indeed, escape the crucifixion which 
was the fate of two thousand of the more prominent 
insurgents, and was included in the general pardon granted 
the remainder ; but the seeds of future trouble for him 
and his family had been sown in the Holy City. At least 
one conscienceless, renegade Jew kept him in mind, with 
a few others likewise prominent in the insurrection, as a 
man of wealth who, on some future occasion, might be 
fleeced with profit and perhaps impunity. 

The occasion was not slow in presenting itself. Cfesar 
decided the question of the Jewish succession by consti- 
tuting Archelaus Ethnarch of Judaea and Samaria, and 
Antipas, his brother, Tetrarch of Galilee and Penea. 
Archelaus was not long in showing his subjects that he 
had inherited the vices, but not the talents, of his father, 
and that he had learned from his Roman patrons a refined 
and systematic tyranny rare under Oriental rulers. With 
such a monarch, the informer made little delay in bringing 
forward the names of men of wealth who had been en- 


62 


EMMANUEL ; 


gaged in the insurrection. It mattered little to either the 
Ethnarch or his sycophant what the provocation had been. 
If a man had been connected in any Tray with the then 
recent disturbances and was rich, the presumption of trea- 
son against him was so strong that nothing short of a 
talent or two of gold would suffice to overthrow it. 

Scarcely had three months elapsed after Archelaus’ re- 
turn, w^hen Salmon found himself a prisoner in the hands 
of a quaternion of those huge Northern barbarians so 
cordially detested in Bethlehem, who, regardless of the 
tears and entreaties of his family, carried him up to Jeru- 
salem, and cast him into a dungeon in the tower of An- 
tonio. Once within those mighty walls, it was soon plain 
that there was to be no way of exit, except by that golden 
key which has opened so many prison gates, and the lack 
of which has doomed so many innocent men to a living 
death. A week after his arrest, what Tvas called his trial 
came off. His accuser told truly enough the part he had 
taken in the attack upon Sabinus. Salmon pleaded his 
pardon by the Prefect, Varus. To this it was rejoined 
that the pardons given by Varus exempted offenders from 
Roman penalties, but not from those of the Ethnarch. In 
vain did the prisoner urge that his offence had been against 
the Romans only ; the officer conducting the trial had been 
appointed, not to judge, but to convict ; and convict he 
did, sentencing Salmon to the payment of a talent of gold 
for seditious conduct. Back went the condemned man to 
the Antonio, forthwith ; for the payment of such a sum by 
him was an impossibility. In Bethlehem he was considered 
rich ; but his wealth was that of a villager, not that of an 
opulent citizen of the metropolis. His whole property 
would not sell for a talent of gold. 

So the months rolled by, and Salmon still languished in 
the dungeon, far down beyond every ray of sunshine and 
breath of fresh air, — down where months of confinement 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


63 


and vile surroundings did more to age him and to break 
down his health than years of severest toil in Bethle- 
hem would have done. Elisabeth, however, was not the 
woman to lose her husband wnthout a struggle. Moved by 
her entreaties, her relatives and friends interceded with the 
Ethnarch in Salmon’s behalf, but at first entirely in vain. 
It was not till the tyrant was satisfied that the fine was 
really greater than the prisoner could possibly pay that he 
consented to alter the sentence. Even then the utmost con- 
cession to be gained from him was the remission of one-half 
the amount. Thereupon, the devoted woman gave her- 
self no rest till she had raised the money required. ’ She 
succeeded, finally, in finding a rich Pharisee, Simon by 
name, who, on promise of heavy interest, advanced the 
sum, with Salmon’s estate for security. Then the prison 
doors opened readily enough, and the unfortunate man 
came forth to the open air and the embraces of his family. 
The joy of the latter at the reunion was heavily dashed 
with sorrow ; for as they looked at the liberated husband 
and father they could hardly believe that it was indeed he. 
Could this. prematurely old man, so wan and haggard, with 
feeble step and fevered breath, be the once handsome and 
vigorous Salmon Ben-Eliab ? Alas, the change was great, 
indeed ! 

By riding on an ass the fever-stricken man succeeded in 
making his way painfully with his sorrowing companions 
along the familiar road to Bethlehem. Arrived at his 
home, he sank wearily and helplessly on his bed, and sub- 
mitted like a child to Elisabeth’s assiduous attentions. 
Month had succeeded to month, seed-time given place to 
harvest, before Salmon rose from' that bed. All winter 
his frame was racked with fever, and often Elisabeth de- 
spaired of his life ; and, though returning spring brought 
him new vigour, and in large degree restored his strength, 
he never recovered entirely from the effects of his long 


64 


EMMANUEL ; 


imprisonment in the pestilential dungeon of Antonio. 
When death met him in time, its coming was hastened 
many years by that terrible experience. 

It is hardly necessary to add that the bitterness of those 
days was shared by the twins, Thoma and his brother, 
and that those experiences of trial and suffering were 
potent factors, producing in them an early development, 
an early interest in life’s problems, and an early sympathy 
with the griefs and hopes of their people ; for that is a 
slow child, truly, in whom acquaintance with sorrow and 
wrong is not an educating force, — a power hastening the 
development of manhood or womanhood. The boys be- 
came at once graver in manner, more mature in thought, 
and more intensely Hebrew in feeling. The deep thirst 
for vengeance on foreign oppresisors, and the passionate 
longing for the promised Deliverer, which were becoming 
more and more the controlling sentiments of the people, 
took possession of them also. 

Though years of peace and comparative prosperity fol- 
lowed, the inclination thus early given to their minds was 
never lost. For long years their hope of national deliver- 
ance was always associated with the infant Jesus, whom 
they firmly believed to be the Messiah ; but as year after 
year went by, and not a word of tidings came to Bethlehem 
concerning him, it was but natural that the greater nearness, 
and therefore greater prominence, of later events should cast 
those earlier scenes, wonderful as they were, more or less 
into the shade ; while the lapse of time made them seem 
in a measure unreal. It was certainly not surprising that 
ten years of silence in regard to the child they had wor- 
shipped should leave them, in their young manhood, en- 
grossed with other matters, and while as strongly and 
bitterly Hebrew in feeling as ever, yet with thoughts sel- 
dom directed toward the Galilaean family with which 
Salmon had parted at the gate of Hebron. 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


65 


CHAPTER y. 

JEWISH YOUTH IN DAVID’s T0\YN. 


Wherewithal ehall a young man cleanse his way? 

By taking heed thereto according to Thy word. 

Psalm xix. 9. 

T he ten years following the liberation of Salmon were 
years of peace. The family was no longer rich ; 
hence the oppressor at Jerusalem overlooked them. 
He belonged to that basest variety of the tyrant species 
which oppresses for purely mercenary and sensual ends, 
not from any real or supposed political necessity ; and 
under such rulers poverty often lives in peace, in the 
safety born of obscurity. When, after nine years of mis- 
rule, Archelaus was deposed, to the universal satisfaction 
of the nation, and a Roman governor put in his place, 
though Hebrew pride was galled by the departure of the 
sceptre from Judah, at first the change promised to be one 
for the better. In the end the nation came to doubt 
whether a Roman knight was preferable as a ruler to even 
an Edomite, a Herod ; for in the train of the Procurator 
came a flock of Toparchs and other fiscal officers, who, 
with their underlings, the publicans, — generally renegade 
Jews of the lowest class, — formed an army of unscrupu- 
lous oppressors, whose great effort it was to squeeze from 
the people the utmost possible returns, and from whose 
constant presence and sleepless vigilance it was impossi- 
ble to escape. While it was certainly true that the crimes 
of the successive Procurators — and the crimes were far 
from few — were less gross than those of Herod and his 
son, it was also true that their tyranny was more widely 


66 


EMMANUEL ; 


felt, because more systematic ; and that under their steady 
and relentless oppression the country gradually declined 
toward bankruptcy, the lands of the people passing more 
and more, year by year, into the hands of the usurer, the 
publican, and the Roman ruler. In the course of time the 
men of Israel realized bitterly the truth of the ancient 
prophecy of woe: “The stranger that is in the midst of 
thee shall mount up above thee higher and higher ; and 
thou shalt come down lower and lower. He shall lend to 
thee, and thou shalt not lend to him ; he shall be the head, 
and thou shalt be the tail.” At first, however, the effect 
of the change to direct Roman taxation was felt but 
slightly ; and in such towns as Bethlehem, where there was 
little to excite the cupidity of those in power, for some 
time men lived and died, in the main, unmolested. 

But the ten years were years of toil. No longer could 
Salmon employ hired servants to till his fields, and hire 
shepherds to watch his few sheep on the hills. The labour 
must be done by him and his sons ; and at first, with his 
impaired health and the limited strength of the twins, the 
toil was hard and wearing, indeed ; for beyond the want 
of his family, and the demands of. an undue taxation, 
which yearly increased in amount, Salmon had to provide 
for the payment of the large sum due to Simon the Phari- 
see as interest, or, more properly, usury, on the money bor- 
rowed from him. 

In this period Asahel and Thoma received much of 
their religious training. Before it, indeed, they had been 
taught the fundamentals of Jewish faith and observance; 
for with the Hebrew child, such instruction began with the 
dawn of intelligence, and was woven into its daily and al- 
most its hourly life as its years increased. From their ear- 
liest recollection, the twins had been accustomed to see 
their mother prepare the Sabbath meal, light at sunset 
Friday evening the Sabbath lamp, and set apart a portion 


TFIE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


67 


of the dough from the bread, — to all of which acts a relig- 
ious significance attached. From her they had heard first 
of all the recital of many of the great events in the history 
of their people, and the first short passages from the Scrip- 
tures, — parts of the shema, — which their childish lips 
learned to lisp. While still in early childhood, their 
father had taught them the shema in full, a collec- 
tion of verses from the Law (Deut. vi. 4-9 ; xi. 13-21 ; 
Num. XV. 37-41), beginning, “Hear, O Israel! the 
Lord our God is one Lord,” which a Jew was required to 
repeat twice every day, morning and evening. From him, 
too, they had learned to repeat the hallel (Ps. cxiii.- 
cxviii.) and the festive songs of ascents. 

When but six years of age they had been sent to the 
school in the synagogue, where, seated on the floor in semi- 
circular array before the chazzan, or clerk of the syna- 
gogue, they had spent their days in diligent study of the 
Scriptures, — and the Scriptures only. 

On entering the period before us, however, their studies 
were no longer confined to the Bible ; for when a boy 
reached the age of ten, it was incumbent upon him to learn 
also those interpretations and comments which many and 
wise Rabbis had made on the Sacred Writings. Especially 
was it considered necessary for a Hebrew youth to become 
familiar with those accepted and firmly established render- 
ings and explanations of the Law, which were collectively 
known as the halakhah, and which, as interpreting and 
defining the Law, had more authority than the Law itself. 
So well established were these, that, in fact, even the 
Sadducaean priests, who at times criticised them, fol- 
lowed them nevertheless in their ministrations. The Rab- 
binical comments on the Prophets, known as the hag- 
gadah, were held of far less importance. 

Their twelfth year completed, — in strictness, it should 
have been the thirteenth, — they attained their majority. 


68 EMMANUEL ; 

I 

and became sons of the Law. As long as they could 
remember, they had repeated the shema twice daily, and 
the prescribed benedictions three times a day ; and on every 
Friday evening they had witnessed, or aided in, the adorn- 
ing of the house for the holy day about to dawn, had 
donned their festive garments, and after listening rever- 
ently while Salmon pronounced a bene diction over the cup 
of wine and water, had gathered with the rest of the fam- 
ily around the Sabbath board, spread with the best the 
house could afford. But henceforth, as sons of the Law, 
they were to be no longer merely beholders of, or subordi- 
nate participants in, the religious ceremonies of their house 
and their town ; they were Israelites of full privilege and 
responsibility. Henceforth, they were to perform their 
sacred duties in person ; and no longer was their father to 
discharge for them their obligations to God, nor to be re- 
sponsible for their sins. 

In token of these new duties and responsibilities, on the 
Sabbath immediately following their twelfth birthday, they 
were brought into the central part of the synagogue, — the 
part occupied by male Israelites, — and publicly invested 
with the tephillin, or prayer-boxes, also called phylacte- 
ries or amulets. These were small leathern cases, contain- 
ing a strip or strips of parchment, on which were inscribed 
four passages' of Scripture (Exod. xiii. 2-10, 11-16; 
Deut. vi. 4-9; xi. 13-21), and which, in accordance 
with Deut. vi. 8, interpreted with extreme literalness, 
were bound, one on the left arm or wrist, one on the fore- 
head between the eyes. From this time, also, they were 
privileged to use the mezuzah. This was a little box, answer- 
ing to the tephillin, fastened, in supposed obedience to 
Deut. vi. 9, to the door-post of the Hebrew dwelling, the 
enclosed parchment being stamped on the back, like the 
outside of the tephillin, with the initial letter of the word 
“ Shaddai,” one of the peculiarly sacred names for God. 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


69 


The devout Jew, on entering or leaving his house, would 
stop before the mezuzah, and reverently touch this sacred 
letter, immediately kissing the fingers that had come in 
contact with it, that so the promise of the Psalmist might 
be fulfilled, “ The Lord shall keep thy going out and thy 
coming in, from this time forth and forevermore.” 

After the religious training of the home, the most im- 
portant influence in the development of the Hebrew youth 
was that of the synagogue. Its frequent services, espe- 
cially those of the Sabbath, at which attendance was re- 
quired of the boy on becoming a son of the Law, and those 
of the market days, Monday and Thursday, known also 
as days of congregation ; its lofty ritual, filled at once 
with present devotion and future hope ; and its numberless 
sermons, the Hebrew midrashim, delivered by one or more 
of the elders, or possibly a visiting Rabbi, invited by the 
ruler of the synagogue, — all combined to impress upon the 
Jewish boy the greatness, the glory, and the awful right- 
eousness of his God ; a God whose very name — Jahveh — • 
was so holy that it might not be uttered by human lips, 
except by the High Priest on the Great Day of Atone- 
ment. The same influences, likewise, taught the youth 
the imperative necessity of implicit obedience and absolute 
devotion to the Deity, and trained him to cherish the glo- 
rious hope of a mighty Deliverer, the Messiah, which the 
Lord of Hosts had placed before His obedient people. 

At daybreak and in the afternoon, at the hours corre- 
sponding to the morning and evening services in the 
Temple, the people went with quick steps to the syna- 
gogue. Entering the building, the worshippers divided 
themselves into three classes, — the women taking their 
places in the gallery reserved for them at the end farthest 
from the door ; the elders seating themselves on the ele- 
vated benches in front of the holy lamp, which, in imita- 
tion of that in the Holy Place in the Temple, was always 


70 


EMMANUEL ; 


present and burning ; while the bulk of the male Israelites 
gathered among the columns in the centre of the building. 
Immediately behind the elders, near the holy lamp, and 
screened from the vulgar eye by a curtain, was the ark, 
or holy chest, containing the various rolls of the Scrip- 
tures ; while in front of the seats of the elders was the 
bima, — a raised platform supporting a desk from which 
the Law was read, and a chair for him who was selected 
to give a midrash, or sermon. 

The congregation rose ; the leader of the devotional 
exercises, who might also be one of the preachers for the 
day, ascended the bima, and the services began with the 
repetitions of two brief invocations by the latter, the first 
one beginning, “ Blessed be Thou, O Lord, King of the 
world, who formest the light and createst the darkness.” 
To each of these the people responded, “ Amen.” The 
shema was then recited, following which came a third 
short prayer beginning, “ True it is that Thou art 
Jahveh [‘ Adonai ’ was substituted for ‘ Jahveh’ in utter- 
ance] our God, and the God of our fathers ; our King, 
and the King of our fathers ; our Saviour, and the 
Saviour of our fathers.” The introductory . exercises 
being now over, the person officiating left the bima, and, 
going to the front of the ark, led the devotions of the 
congregation in that part of the service considered in an 
especial sense “ the Prayer.” It consisted of certain bene- 
dictions, variable in number, — in after-times nineteen, — 
only the first three and the last three of which were pre- 
scribed for Sabbath worship. Two extracts, one from the 
second, the other from the fifth, — afterward and still 
known as the seventeenth, — will suffice to show their 
lofty, and often beautiful, character: — 

“ Thou, O Lord, art mighty forever ; Thou, who quick- 
enest the dead, art mighty to save. In Thy mercy Thou 
preparest the living. Thou quickenest the dead ; in Thine 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


71 


abundant pity Thou bearest up those who fall, and healest 
those who are diseased, and loosest those who are bound, 
and fulfillest Thy faithful word to those who sleep in the 
dust. AYho is like unto Thee, Lord of strength? and who 
can be compared to Thee, who killest and makest alive, 
and causest salvation to spring forth ? ” 

“ We laud Thee and declare Thy praise: for our lives 
which are bound up in Thine hand ; for our souls which 
are committed to Thee ; for Thy wonders which are with 
us every day ; and for Thy marvellous deeds and Thy 
goodnesses which are at all seasons, evening and morning 
and mid-day, — Thou Gracious One, for Thy compassions 
never end ; Thou Pitying One, for Thy mercies never 
cease : forever do we put our trust in Thee.” 

Immediately before the last benediction, the priests 
present, or in lack of them the leader for the day, with 
hands uplifted, pronounced the ancient Aaronic blessing 
(Num. vi. 24-26), the congregation answering with the 
“ Amen ” to each of its three petitions. 

The Prayer over, the chazzan opened the ark and took 
out a roll of the Law, and, having unwound its coverings, 
handed it to the first of the seven persons chosen by the 
ruler of the synagogue to read the lesson of the day. As 
the reader pronounced the sacred words, the interpreter, 
standing on the bima by his side, translated them, verse 
by verse, from the ancient Hebrew into the current 
Aramaic. A curious regulation was that forbidding the 
interpreter to read his translation, lest it should be re- 
garded as authoritative ; in consequence of which, the ren- 
derings were often very free, sometimes far from faithful 
to the original, and very often virtually translations from 
the familiar Septuagint, or Greek, version of the Scrip- 
tures, which, owing to its inexpensiveness and the wide 
diffusion of the Greek tongue, was far better known to the 
people at large than the original Hebrew. The selection 


72 


EMMANUEL , 


from the Prophets was read and translated in like manner, 
except that the renderings were made at the end of every 
third passage instead of verse by verse. 

The latter part of the service consisted of the midrash 
or midrashim of one or more persons, as the ruling 
elder might elect. These were always supposed to be 
comments on, and expositions of, the sacred text ; as a 
matter of fact, they were Scriptural in tone or un-Scrip- 
tural, wise or foolish, interesting or dull, according to the 
character and ability of the person chosen to speak, very 
much as are the sermons of modern times. One element, 
however, they possessed in common, — rarely did a preacher 
close his discourse without some reference to the hope 
and promised “ consolation of Israel.” It was from these 
synagogue addresses that Thoma and his brother gained 
some of their most exalted conceptions of the Messiah to 
come. More than once they heard him described by 
those under the influence of a Hebrew writer recently 
deceased — the author of the second part of the Book 
of Enoch — as the Son of Man, already, and for ages 
past, dwelling with the Ancient of days ; with face like 
that of a man, and yet of such loveliness as to be rather 
that of one of the holy angels. This Promised One, 
whose name had been named in the presence of God 
before sun or stars were created, would be revealed at the 
last, and subdue and destroy all the powers and kingdoms 
of wickedness. He would be the light of nations, the 
hope of all who mourn in spirit ; he would sit on the 
throne of glory and dwell among his saints, while all 
would bow down before him and adore him. Heaven and 
earth would be removed, and only the saints would abide 
upon the renewed earth. Earth, Hades, and hell would 
give up their dead, and the Messiah, sitting on his throne, 
would select and own the just, and open up all secrets of 
wisdom, amidst the universal joy of the ransomed earth. .. 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


73 


To the influence of such teaching should be added that 
of the Messianic benediction, which so readily found a 
place in the liturgical part of the service, and which every 
devout Jew, whether a dweller in Palestine or one of the 
dispersion, in exile among the Gentiles, soon came to pro- 
nounce day by day. 

“ Proclaim by Thy loud trumpet our deliverance,” it 
ran, “and raise up a banner to gather our dispersed, and 
gather us together from the four ends of the earth. 
Blessed be Thou, O Lord ! who gatherest the outcasts of 
Thy people Israel.” 

Two earnest and thoughtful boys growing up under such 
influences became naturally both religious and patriotic. 
They were religious, because they were patriotic ; and pa- 
triotic, because they were religious ; for that dread Being, 
whose awful four-lettered name they might not utter, was 
at once their God and their true and only rightful King. 
Had there been a clearly defined nationalist party in the 
land, the sons of Salmon would, doubtless, have belonged 
to it ; perhaps, had they lived in Galilee, they would have 
been known as. Zealots, — whose later motto was, “No 
Lord but God,” — and have joined, in their early manhood, 
the standard of Judah the Gaulanite in his protest against 
Roman taxation and vain revolt against Roman power. In 
lack of such an avowed nationalist party in Judaea, they 
grew up to be counted with their father among the follow- 
ers of the Pharisees. 

With what other party could earnest patriots ally them- 
selves? With the Herodians, those unprincipled, time- 
serving renegades, followers in the train of the family 
detested by all Israel ? Their very name was sufficient to 
mark them out for well-deserved abhorrence. With the 
Essenes, those strange, un-Hebrew Jews, small communi- 
ties of whom were scattered through the land, especially in 
the vicinity of the Sea of Salt? Surely such men, clean 


74 


EMMANUEL ; 


though their lives might be, lofty though their aspirations 
certainly were, would not attract young men ardently 
hoping for the deliverance of their people. They would 
not attract any Jew who had not been wandering into the 
forbidden fields of heathen learning. For the Essenes, by 
mixing a little Greek philosophy with more of Eastern Par- 
seeism, and these two with such parts of the faith of Israel 
as suited their taste, had erected an oath-bound system 
which rejected sacrifices, forbade marriage, looked for no 
Messiah, denied the resurrection of the body, and made 
asceticism — the purification of the soul from every taint, 
which contact with the body, and through it with other 
material things, had given it — the great object in life. To 
what party, then, other than that of the Pharisees, could 
the young men attach themselves ? To that of the Saddu- 
cees? Possibly; but their father had never been drawn 
toward this aristocratic class, and his sons followed his 
lead. Yet Salmon might have found it hard to explain 
and justify his distrust of the Sadducees, who were the 
moderate, and, as it seems to us now, in at least some re- 
spects the reasonable, party. He certainly was not in 
complete accord in views with their opponents, the Phari- 
sees. Though classed as a follower of the latter, he had 
never joined their association ; in fact, had never even 
meditated taking upon him their oath of perfect observance 
of the Levitical law and perfect discharge of all religious 
dues. There was a puerile refinement and a contemptible 
casuistry about their countless washings and their num- 
berless avoidings of things in Rabbinical imagination un- 
clean, in their minute tithings and magnifying of trifles, 
their long. prayers in public and ostentatious gifts of alms, 
from which his strong common sense revolted. Not that 
he approved of his own lack of interest in things Pharisaic — 
quite the contrary. A Pharisee would have told him that 
the depravity of his own unregenerate heart kept him 


THE STORY OF THE 3IESSIAII. 


75 


from being drawn to such deeds of holiness ; and he would 
not have challenged the summary judgment. A Rabbi 
would not have scrupled to inform him that he belonged 
to the am ha-arets, — the sons of the soil, — and was al- 
together ignorant of the Law. And the Rabbi would 
have added, with self-righteous complacency, “ We, the 
sages, are the people of God ; but this people who know 
not the Law are cursed ; ” and though, of course, Salmon 
would have relished this estimate of himself and his pros- 
pects but little, he would not have thought of disputing it 
openly, least of all in the presence of a Rabbi. Nevertheless, 
though he recognized it not, there was much of Rabbin- 
ical teaching and Pharisaic practice of which his judg- 
ment did not really approve. An underlying vein of 
common sense, never coming to the surface in formulated 
shape, yet never failing, had led him, as it has led thou- 
sands of other earnest men, unconsciously to disparage the 
claims and neglect many of the requirements of ecclesias- 
tical dogmatists. Why, then, did he not rank himself 
among the followers of the Sadducees, the moderate party, 
with whom he was really more in accord in matters of 
belief? Probably, in large measure, from the common, 
but certainly mistaken, notion that those teachers whose 
doctrine made life most burdensome Tvere presumably the 
truest mouthpieces of God ; also from a well-grounded dis- 
trust of the integrity and patriotism of some of the lead- 
ing families — especially the priestly families — of this 
wealthy and aristocratic party. The very fact that Herod 
had favoured them rather than the Pharisees was in itself 
evidence of no slight weight that they did not have either 
the present good or the future deliverance of Israel greatly 
at heart. Salmon was right in his estimate of the leading 
Sadducees. Self-interest reigned in their breasts, and ex- 
cluded at once true religion and genuine patriotism. His 
sons lived to discover, however, that in this respect the 


76 


EMMANUEL ; 


controlling men among the Pharisees were in no degree 
their superiors. 

In outward matters the growth of Asahel and Thoma to 
vigorous manhood meant increasing comfort and peace to 
the family of Salmon. The young men became the stay 
of their parents’ years, the pride of their father’s, the joy 
of their mother’s, heart ; so straight and strong were 
they, so inured to toil and exposure, so dutiful and respect- 
ful to father and mother. Thoma was still the taller and 
stronger of the two, while Asahel was the quicker, the 
more skilful, and still the more handsome of the brothers. 
Thoma’s square face had not grown beautiful in the years 
that brought him to manhood ; but it had grown in signs of 
thought and inward strength. There was a repose and 
firmness, as well as a kindliness, about it which, if not 
winning admiration, certainly commanded general respect. 

And how had the young men fared on that side of their 
being which nature leaves unfinished, and whose incom- 
pleteness she reveals to the individual by awakening in him 
a longing for a helpmeet? Had they grown to manhood 
without experiencing the power of that mysterious force 
drawing the heart of man to that of w^oman? For a time, 
one might have thought they were to prove exceptions to 
the general rule, and that, owing to their intimate compan- 
ionship with, and strong affection for, each other, they were 
to go through life without finding or feeling the need of 
other mates ; but it was for a time only. 

The ten years had not quite elapsed when Thoma began 
to wonder at certain new sensations in his breast. There 
was a strange delight in them which his simple mind was at 
loss to understand. They clearly had some connection 
with a certain maiden who came with other daughters of 
Bethlehem to glean in his father’s harvest field in the 
valley. Not a little he wondered to find how he delighted 
to cut and bind the grain in that part of the field wdiere she 


THE STOllY OF THE MESSIAH. 77 

was gathering, and how frequently handfuls of bearded 
ears escaped his fingers when she was the nearest gleaner. 
Often, too, -would he find himself, on stopping work for a 
moment, following with his eyes the graceful movements of 
the girl as she gathered the stray spe’ars. How like her 
must the Moabitess, Ruth, have appeared when she 
gleaned in that very vale in the portion of Boaz ! Later 
in the season, he found himself prone to return in the even- 
ing from the fig orchards, the vineyards, or the sheepfold, 
not, as formerly, through the little eastern gate, but by way 
of David’s well and the northern portal ; for by that route 
he would naturally accompany the women as they bore 
their water-jars back into the city. And who am6ng all 
the daughters of ’Bethlehem carried her jar with such ease 
and grace as the maiden Tamar, daughter of Jesse? Was 
there one to compare with her ? So erect and so shapely ! 
So truly like the palm-tree after which she was named ! 
After watching her disappear at the door of her father’s 
house, Thoma would go to his own, through the darkening 
streets, encompassed by an atmosphere of strange delight. 
It mattered not what was the season or the aspect of 
nature, nor what the toil or exposure to which he might be 
called ; the world for him was bright and glad and full of 
hope. 

And yet it was some time before he grasped the meaning 
of his sensations, their significance bursting upon him 
finally with almost the force of a revelation. He had 
watched the girl from a distance, one evening, and, as he 
turned away upon her disappearance within the shelter of 
her home, had felt a strong desire to follow her. Suddenly 
the thought flashed upon him, why should he not ? What 
prevented him going boldly to old Jesse and asking the 
virgin in marriage? Why should he not take Tamar to 
wife ? Then would his happiness be complete. It was in 
a delicious excitement that he walked the streets, and 


78 


EMMANUEL ; 


turned over in liis mind the blissful thought. Why not, 
indeed? Was there one in Bethlehem better fitted to care 
for her than he? one who would provide for her more 
faithfully, or shield her more tenderly? For many days 
this hope formed a bright waking dream, in which he lived 
and moved, hardly conscious of the outer world, — a dream 
so bright and fair that he was slow to risk a disturbance of 
it by an interview with the maiden’s father. 

Alas for him ! The delay gave opportunity for a rude 
awakening from an entirely unexpected quarter. He and 
his brother were returning from the field one evening, as 
usual of late, by the north gate. Thom a had noticed that 
Asahel seemed to prefer this more circuitous route as well 
as himself, and, without ever suspecting the truth, had 
wondered, in a vague way, if his brother were drawn to it 
by any such influence as that affecting himself. So, when 
Asahel spoke to him on this occasion, as they watched the 
group of women preceding them through the gate, the for- 
mer’s words came like a thunderbolt in the time of harvest. 

“Judah,” said he, “hast thou marked yonder fair 
daughter of Jesse? How straight and graceful she is ! How 
her eyes shine, like unto precious stones, from under her 
dark brows ! And her hair is like unto ebony ! ” 

Thoma turned and looked at Asahel’s glowing face with 
grave apprehension. 

“ Thou sayest, my brother, I have marked her often.” 

“ What thinkest thou, Judah? Would not she make one 
of us a good wife to build up the house of our father, 
Salmon? ” Then, waiting not for answer, “ I went to her 
father last night, and besought him to give her to me in 
marriage.” 

“ And what said old Jesse to thee?” was the return, in 
a voice so constrained and altered, that, at any other time, 
Asahel would have marked it and commented on it. 

“He said that he was an old man, soon to sleep with 


THE STORY OF THE 3IESSIA1L 


T9 


liis fathers, and the virgin the last lamb in his flock and 
the comfort of his old age. He told me to wait a while, 
and if another year the maiden wished to come to my 
house, he would not say her nay.” 

The rest of the way was traversed in silence. Within 
the soul of Thoma a storm had set in which would rage 
long and violently before it passed away. He did not fol- 
low Tamar toward her home, nor turn his eyes after her as 
she passed down a side street ; but, going directly to his 
father’s house, in perfect silence made his preparations to 
go out to the sheepfold. It was his turn to relieve his 
father, who watched the sheep in the day when his sons 
were at work, but whose health was such that he could not 
safely remain with them at night. 

At the fold, when his father had departed, and he had 
secured the little flock for the night, Thoma drew his fleece- 
covered sheepskin about him, and, throwing himself by 
the side of the little, fire, gave himself up to his stormy 
thoughts. He hardly noticed that a winter tempest had 
gathered with the approach of evening ; and when it broke 
and swept wrathfully over hill and valley, drenching every- 
thing far and wide with torrents of rain, he only drew his 
heavy cloak a little closer around him, glanced carelessly at 
the dying fire, and gazed with gloomy indifference across 
the valley to where the clouds, heavy, dripping, and trailing 
wide fringes beneath them, were surging up over the 
western hills. The moon was at the full, and, despite the 
thick curtains of vapour obscuring it, succeeded in diffusing 
no little light over the scene. But to the grandeur of the 
tempest and the discomfort of the driving rain, Thoma was 
equally indifferent ; for what was the outer storm to that 
which raged in his own breast? 

A curse, he said to himself bitterly, had fallen upon him. 
Was there some demon attending his steps, and dashing the 
cup of blessing from his lips just as he was about to drink? 


80 


EMMANUEL ; 


“O Asahel, my brother, my brother!” rang out his 
heart-broken cry, and mingling with the voices of the 
tempest. “ AYas there none other in Bethlehem to deal 
me this mortal wound? If I must needs be crushed by 
disappointment, if I must go on henceforth maimed and 
bleeding in heart, would to God the deadly blow were 
struck by any hand but thine, O thou to whom my soul 
cleaveth as the soul of David to that of Jonathan ! ” 

Then might he have given vent to his stormy feelings 
in bitter maledictions ; then, perchance, he might have 
thought of vengeance. But Asahel ! what was there for 
him except to suffer in silence, to look on without protest 
while another seized the prize for which his soul longed, 
and to obtain which he would have surrendered his every 
possession? And thus, sleeplessly, his mind the arena of 
contending thoughts, he passed the night, while the storm 
raged about him, and swept over the hills of the wilder- 
ness toward the great gulf of the Salt Sea. Once, as he 
turned himself restlessly and gazed up into the hurrying 
cloud-masses, there occurred to him the difference between 
the present and that other night nearly a dozen years 
before, when, as he looked into the star-filled sky, the 
glory of heaven had come down to his astonished eyes. 
AYhat a contrast was this with that vision of glory and 
promise ! But, for the first time, he thought of that won- 
derful apparition with apathy. AVhat mattered it to him 
whether the Messiah came to Israel? AYould the great 
Deliverer bring him any help? could his mighty arm 
remedy trouble such as this? could he fix Asahel’s choice 
on another maiden, and give him the one for whom his 
heart cried out? Alas, no ! 

AY hen the gray morning light began to spread over the 
scene, Thoma did not wait to be relieved by his father ; 
but, the rain having ceased, called through the doorway 
to the sheep, huddled together under the rude roof in the 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


81 


farther corner, and, as they flocked out, strode before 
them moodily over the hills into the wilderness. It is to 
be feared he had little thought of finding the best pastur- 
age for his flock, or of accommodating his pace to that of 
its feebler members. Disregarding the coldness and stiff- 
ness in his limbs, he was conscious of but one impulse, — • 
a blind desire to get out of sight of Bethlehem, and to 
avoid contact with his fellows. He wandered on until the 
marble walls of Herodium stood up against the sky some 
distance to the north-west ; then, knowing that to go much 
farther east would be to fall into the neighbouring wild 
gorge leading in steep descent down to the Sea of Salt, 
he threw himself on the ground once more, and allowed 
the sheep to find such pasturage as the steep slopes of the 
region might afford. The day passed much as the night 
had done. The north wind early swept the clouds from 
the sky and rolled them away in picturesque masses to the 
south, while the sun shone with a grateful warmth on both 
flock and shepherd ; but the son of Salmon heeded the 
smile of Nature as little as her frown. After another 
night and day in the wilderness, the third evening found 
the man so 'worn out with sleeplessness, exposure, and 
hunger, that he was content, at last, to surrender the flock 
to his brother’s care and return to his home. 

The strangeness of Thoma’s behaviour, and the gloom 
which had fallen upon him, did not, of course, escape the 
notice of the family ; but all inquiries failed to elicit the 
cause of the change which had taken place in him. In- 
deed, his reticence nearly equalled his dejection. That 
was a very bitter winter to the young man. He wms too 
noble to think of supplanting his brother. No, if one of 
them must lose, he would not put the loss on Asaliel. 
Nevertheless, the trial was hard to bear, two considera- 
tions adding to its grievousness. One was, that, in giving 
way to his brother in this matter, he was not yielding to 


82 


EMMANUEL ; 


the claim of brotherly affection, but to necessity. He 
could not rival Asahel if he wished to. Would not Jesse 
prefer the first-born, as a matter of course? and, as for 
Tamar, how much more pleasing than he must his hand- 
some brother appear in her eyes? In vain he told him- 
self that he did not wish to supplant Asahel. The thought 
of his helplessness added no little gall to the cup he was 
drinking. Voluntary sacrifice has its blessed compensa- 
tions ; but sacrifice from necessity often bears too close a 
resemblance to robbery to admit of easy solace. 

The other disturbing thought was the unconquerable con- 
viction that the daughter of Jesse was far less necessary 
to his brother’s happiness and peace than to his own. He 
did not doubt that Asahel loved Tamar ; but he felt that 
should the former fail to secure her, he would not be in- 
consolable. With Thoma it was otherwise ; his heart had 
gone out toward the girl in unrestrained prodigality ; there 
were no treasures in reserve to be brought forth for a new 
object of regard. 

With that winter of gloom and pain commenced a habit 
of his which soon marked him out as peculiar among the 
young men of Bethlehem. He grew fond of prolonged 
wanderings among the hills of the Judaean wilderness, 
alone with his sheep and his sombre thoughts, and far 
from any human habitation. It was not, at first, that the 
young Hebrew had any great sympathy with Nature, or 
found solace in companionship with her, though such 
sympathy and solace did come to him in time ; rather was 
it that he desired to be secure against observation and 
overhearing, that he might nurse his sorrow in peace, — 
and seclusion in the East is to be found only apart from 
the dwellings of men. 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


83 


CHAPTER VI. 


THE BOY CHRIST IN HIS FATHER’S HOUSE. ^ 


Watchman, tell us of the night; 

Higher yet that star ascends ; 

Traveller, blessedness and light, 

Peace and truth, its course portends 
Watchman, will its beams alone 
Gild the spot which gave them birth? 
Traveller, ages are its own ; 

See, it bursts o’er all the earth ! 

Bowbing. 


\ ^ I HAT mean ye by this service ? ” 
y Y It was the voice of a child, the young son 
of the master of the house. The scene was 
the Paschal feast at Jerusalem, where, in a large upper 
chamber, a considerable company was gathered to eat the 
supper together. 

“It is the sacrifice of the Lord’s Passover, who passed 
over the houses of the children of Israel in Egypt, when 
he smote the Egyptians and delivered our houses,” re- 
turned the boy’s father, rising on his couch to a sitting 
posture. 

Then followed an explanation of the passage in the Law 
beginning, “ A Syrian ready to perish was my father, 
and he went down into Egypt, and sojourned there few in 
number ; and he became there a nation, great, mighty, and 
populous.” 

With this company of relatives, Salmon and his sons 
had united in celebrating the Passover festival, — the anni- 
versary of their nation’s birth, the Hebrew independence 
day. In the afternoon Thoma had carried one of his own 
lambs on his shoulders into the Temple, — one which he 


1 Matt. ii. 19-23; Luke ii. 33-52. 


84 


EMMANUEL ; 


had already submitted to Levitical inspection and ascer- 
tained to be without a blemish. There, upon the triple blast 
of the ram’s-horn trumpets, he had been among the first 
to enter the Temple court, slay his victim, and have its 
blood passed up in one of the golden bowls, by the long 
line of priests, to the great altar, on the towering, white- 
washed side of which it was scattered, instead of being 
sprinkled, as formerly in Egypt, on the door-posts and 
lintels of the Hebrew dwellings. The fatty portions 
having been set apart for burning on the altar, and the 
viscera removed, he had borne the body back to the house 
at which he was staying, where, upon a spit of pomegran- 
ate wood, and in an oven specially prepared for it, it had 
forthwith been roasted whole. 

Thereupon the guests from Bethlehem had followed their 
host, as, candle in hand, he had searched the house from 
top to bottom for any remaining trace of leaven, and relig- 
iously destroyed every remnant found. No leavened bread 
had passed the lips of any since the morning of that day. 
Then, when the couches had been prepared for the supper, 
and the festive lamps lighted, all had waited till the three- 
fold blast of the silver Temple trumpets announced the 
appearing of the first three stars of evening, and the arri- 
val of the time for beginning the feast ; whereupon the 
head of the house, taking a cup of red wine mingled with 
water, had begun with the words, “ Blessed art Thou, Jah- 
veh [Adonai], our God, who hast created the fruit of the 
vine ! ” at the same time giving thanks for another return 
of the great feast day of Israel. Next, after washing his 
hands in the sight of all, the dishes having been brought in, 
he had dipped some of the bitter herbs — always part of the 
feast — into a vessel of vinegar, and, pronouncing a bless- 
ing, had eaten of them and passed them around to the 
others. Following this, one of the unleavened cakes had 
been broken, and the dish containing it held aloft, with the 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


85 


words, “This is the bread of misery which our fathers 
ate ill the land of Egypt. All that are hungry, come and 
eat; all that are needy, come, keep the Pascha;” upon 
which the second cup of wine and water had been filled 
but not drunk, and tlie prescribed inquiry, already quoted, 
made by the youngest person present, the little son of the 
host. 

The feast proceeded in the customary manner, no longer, 
as in Egypt, in haste, with sandaled feet and girded loins, 
but with ease, and every indication of joy on the part of 
most of the company. The cup already filled was elevated, 
certain prayers spoken, and the first two Psalms in the hallel 
recited ; and, finally, a third time the cup was uplifted 
and prayer offered, following which the wine was drank. 
The supper itself began wiCh the giving of the sop, — a 
bit of the lamb, a morsel of the unleavened bread, and a 
fragment of the bitter herbs bound together. This the 
head of the company dipped into the vinegar vessel, next 
into the dish containing the charoseth, — nuts, raisins, 
apples, etc., in thidk but soft mixture, in symbolism of the 
clay worked by the Hebrews in Egypt, — and then handed 
to one of the company to be eaten by him. 

When the lamb had been eaten, and the close of the 
Paschal meal approached, a third cup of the diluted wine, 
known from the special benediction pronounced over it 
as “ the cup of blessing,” was passed around ; the “ grace 
after meat ” was then spoken, and a general ceremonial 
washing of hands followed. With the drinking of a fourth 
cup and the recitation of the remainder of the hallel, the 
supper came to an end. In silence Thoma partook of the 
feast. In silence, too, he accompanied the others, as at 
midnight they joined the crowds streaming through the 
Temple gates, and spent the remaining hours of the night 
in festive rejoicings and in preparations for the chagigah, 
— the special offering made by each worshipper on the first 


86 


EMMANUEL ; 


day of the feast. But for him the former interest and 
enthusiasm in these scenes and services had departed, and 
the young man was only a listless spectator. The calm 
splendour of the full Paschal moon, then bathing the sur- 
rounding hills and ravines with its light, and the soft airs 
of advanced spring blowing up the Kedron valley, had 
more attraction for him now than the noisy festivities in the 
Temple ; so that soon he separated himself from the crowd, 
and found his way through one of the open gates to an 
adjoining olive grove, in the- seclusion of which he awaited 
the coming of the dawn. 

Nor did the offering of the chagigah and the special 
services in Temple and synagogue the day after interest 
him as of old. It was without his former rejoicings that 
he followed again the noisy crowd attending the three 
delegates from the Sanhedrin as they descended to a 
sheltered spot in the Kedron valley, and reaped the first 
sheaf of barley of the year. Nor when, the second day, 
the flour made from that barley, mingled with frankin- 
cense and oil, was waved before the Holy House, did he 
look on with the customary interest of a patriotic Hebrew. 
Thoma was still very sad and sore at heart. His gloom, 
however, was about to be pierced by a gleam of interest and 
hope ; the clouds obscuring his sky were about to part, and 
disclose for a moment the rising star of promise for him- 
self, for Israel, and the world. 

He did not return home with his father and brother 
immediately after the offering of the wave sheaf, but con- 
tinued in Jerusalem for the remainder of the feast. The 
Holy City presented at least more hope of diversion than 
Bethlehem. Each morning, while it was still dark, he 
would hasten to the Temple, and meet in the outer court 
in the dim twilight with the throng of bearded worship- 
pers, each dark head covered with turban or keffiyeh. 
There all would wait till the priestly watcher on the pin- 


THE STOEF OF THE MESSIATL 


87 


nacle at the south-east corner, overhanging the deep Kedron 
valley, announced the appearance of the white w^alls of 
Hebron, far away on the hills southward. Then, as the 
cry rang out, “ Priests, to your ministry ! Levites, to your 
places! Israelites, take your stations!” 'he would pass 
quickly through the inner gates to the court of Israel, and 
watch while the lamb w^as laid on the north side of the 
altar, killed, and the base of the huge structure sprinkled 
with its blood. Meanwhile, the three priests w'hose lot it 
was mounted the steps of the sanctuary, and while the 
congregation engaged in prayer, they passed under the 
golden vine into the Holy Place. One of them reverently 
removed from the golden altar the remnants of the sacrifice 
of the previous evening, and retired backwards. The 
second spread out in tlm same place the live coals taken 
from the great altar in the court, and retired, leaving 
the celebrant priest standing alone, golden censer in hand, 
facing the golden altar, — to his right, the table of shew- 
bread ; to his left, the seven-branched, golden lamp-stand, 
the light from which alone illumined the sacred apart- 
ment. At a certain signal, wdiile priests and Israelites 
without were prostrate in worship, he spread the incense 
over the glowing coals, and, as the fragrant clouds, 
symbolical of the prayers of the people, arose through the 
roof, bowed himself in worship, and retired. 

As the sun rose, parts of the slain lamb were laid upon 
the great altar and consumed with fire, priests and people 
again engaging in prayer. The meat-offering of meal 
mixed wdth oil was next laid on the altar, sprinkled with 
salt and incense, and consumed ; following which a priest 
poured the wine of the drink-offering from a costly cup 
into a silver funnel in the altar, whence it was led off into 
a subterranean passage. The two trumpets sent forth 
their nine blasts each ; the twelve priests recited the Psalms* 
for the day, concluding with the prescribed sacerdotal 


88 


EMMANUEL ; 


blessing, “The Lord bless thee and keep thee ; the Lord 
make Ilis face to shine upon thee, and be gracious unto 
thee ; the Lord lift up His countenance upon thee, and 
give the peace,” and the morning sacrifice was over. 

Certainly it was an impressive ceremonial ; but the day 
of its importance and power was gone by. No longer 
was the centre of national life to be found in it. Already 
it had become largely a perfunctory rite ; already forces 
were at work — soon to be mightily supplemented — de- 
veloping the simpler worship which was to supersede it ; 
already the currents of national life were running more 
strongly in other channels. The Pharisees who controlled 
the strongest party in the land, and the Rabbis, the 
teachers of Israel, — mostyof them Pharisees, — while 
nominally exalting the Templ§‘''mnd its services, had little 
use for it. Their teaching could be given, and the rites 
they esteemed of most importance performed, quite as 
well elsewhere ; and since their opponents, the Sadducees, 
were in control in the sacred courts, it was but natural 
that their interest should not centre there. Under their 
guidance, the synagogues — hundreds of which were to 
be found in Jerusalem alone — were rapidly supplanting 
the Temple in popular esteem. The Pharisees, in bring- 
ing about this revolution, worked at once more wisely and 
for themselves more dangerously than they knew, — more 
wisely, for thereby they rendered it possible for Judaism 
to survive the disasters and storms of its future, the 
synagogue, uni five the Temple, being limited to no locality, 
clime, or nation ; more dangerously, for in one sense the 
synagogue was the foundation of the Christian Church. 

The hours following the morning offering Thoma spent 
listening to noted Rabbis as they taught in the Temple 
courts, or wandering through the city, gazing into the 
various workshops and bazaars, and noting the strange 
costumes and manners of the motley and largely foreign 


THE STOEY OF THE MESSIAH. 


80 


crowds in the streets. The Holy City had many siglits to 
attract the eye of a countryman. Besides the Temple 
and the Antonio castle on Mount Moriah, there were, just 
across the ravine on Mount Zion, the palaces of Roman 
rulers, Herodian princes, and wealthy merchants, native 
and heathen ; the Xystus ; the massive towers in the 
ancient first wall, — Hippicus, Phasaelus, and Mariamne, — 
each a palace and a fortress in itself, while under the shelter 
of these lay the spacious and splendid Praetorium, formerly 
the royal palace. In the busy thoroughfares of the lower 
city on the slopes of Akra and the sides of the Tyropoeon, 
crowded as they were then with citizens, country folk, 
foreign Jews, and heathen from all parts of the known 
world, every variety of attire might have been seen, from 
the blue and purple robes, ornamented with gold and 
silver, of the wealthy, — especially the weathy heathen, 
and natives of Herodian tendencies, — to the rude, and 
not over clean, unbleached tunic of the day labourer ; from 
the ample toga of the proud Roman to the stained and 
faded scarlet cloak of the soldier from the legions ; from 
the pure white garb of the occasional Essene or priest to 
the rough hair mantle of the Nazarite or the tawny- 
skinned Arab from the desert. 

Then, with how many objects of interest were those nar- 
row, crooked, uneven ways lined ! Open to the street and 
the gaze of the passer were the shops of the shoemaker, 
the tailor, the butcher, the wool-comber. From one shop 
came the sound of saw and hammer ; from anotlier, the 
clangour of the workers in brass and iron ; while in quieter 
halls the goldsmith and the jeweller pursued their callings. 
There, too, were the dim, arcaded bazaars, where articles, 
not of Judma only, but from every land, the luxuries, the 
comforts, and the necessaries of life, were offered for sale. 
There were to be had articles of glass, silks, fine linen; 
purple and costly tapestries ; ointments and precious per- 


90 


EMMANUEL ; 


fumes, veils and expensive ^shawls, from Arabia, Persia, 
and India ; cattle and sheep, flour and fruits, wine and oil, 
from Judaea, from Galilee, and from beyond Jordan. 
From the bazaars alone, noting the articles exposed for 
sale, and the prices attached, a stranger would not have 
been long in perceiving that in Jerusalem, as throughout the 
empire, wealth and poverty, luxury and want, went hand 
in hand. Nor would he have lacked evidence that moral 
corruption had followed in the train of luxury and ill-dis- 
tributed wealth. The haughtiness and arrogance of some ; 
the servility and look of low cunning of others ; the sensual 
countenances of many of the most richly attired men ; and 
the anklets and ankle chains, the pendants, sashes, and per- 
fume-boxes, the rings, nose-jewels, and hand-mirrors, with 
which, in spite of Eastern aversion to female display in 
public, and the denunciation of religious teachers, ancient 
and modern, many of the women adorned themselves, 
taking pains that the ornaments should not be hidden 
from view, — would have convinced the observer that not 
a little miasma was present in the moral atmosphere of 
J erusalem. 

It was with more or less interest in the varied scenes of 
the way that Thoma, one afternoon in the latter part of the 
Passover week, walked leisurely down a street in the upper 
Tyropoeon. Among the things attracting his attention was 
the form of a boy of some twelve years. How well he re- 
membered his own boyish visits to Jerusalem ! In those 
days the Holy City was literally a world of wonders to him. 
It could never be such again. Would that he might go 
back to those happy boyhood days, he thought bitterly. 
Suddenly his ears, accustomed by this ‘time to the din of 
the city, caught the sound of an approaching cavalcade. 
He stepped close to the wall mechanically, and was turning 
to look at the new-comers, when he saw that the lad who 
had interested him, absorbed in contemplation of the work 


THE STORY OF THE 3IESSIAH. 


91 


in one of the shops, neither heard the noise of the horses’ 
feet nor noticed the general scattering of tlie people ; while 
to the cry of one of the horsemen in a foreign tongue, bid- 
ding him stand aside, he was evidently deaf. Thoina had 
just time to spring forward and pull the boy by main force 
under the nearest archway, when a body of officers and 
mounted soldiers swept by, leaving scant room for the men 
and women clinging to the walls of the houses and crowd- 
ing the adjacent shops. 

“ Verily, my lad,” said the young man, when the clatter 
of hoofs had decreased, “ thou art a stranger here, or thou 
wouldest keep eyes and ears wide open in the streets of 
Jerusalem. Had I not caught thee, thou wouldest have 
had need of a physician ere this.” 

The boy expressed his gratitude for the kindly act. 

“ Kind sir, tell me, I pray thee,” he continued, with a 
slight Galilasan accent, after watching the retreating forms 
of the soldiers, “who are these rude horsemen?” 

“Ah! thou knowest not our masters yet. Those, lad, 
are our lordly rulers, the Romans, by whom we have the 
honour to be governed, and for whose benefit we have the 
privilege to be taxed. They go over to the Antonio castle 
by the Temple.” 

“ Pray tell me, friend,” said the boy quickly, “ the way 
to the Temple. I would go up to the house of the Lord, 
and know not the way thither.” 

“ Go down this street until thou passest below the castle 
and under the bridge ; then take the first flight of stairs. 
But stay ! I will go with thee.” 

Thereupon, undisturbed by the babel of multitudinous 
and bewildering sounds filling the air, Thoma piloted his 
new acquaintance through the vari-colored throng of Jews, 
native and foreign, Greeks, Egyptians, Arabs, and Baby- 
lonians, and down the populous ravine to the Temple stairs. 
He had taken a sudden interest in the Galilagan lad ; there 


92 


EMMANUEL ; 


was something in the fair young face that attracted him 
and roused his curiosity. The well-formed, clearly cut 
features, almost as much Greek as Hebrew in type ; the 
dark brown, almost black, eyes, and the abundant hair of 
the same color, combined to form a countenance of a 
character somewhat unusual in Palestine ; but it was not 
the beauty of the face nor the type of it which arrested 
the attention of Thoma. It was, in part, the look of deep 
inquiry in those fine young eyes. Certainly it was not 
strange that a Jewish boy, on his first visit to the Holy 
City, should be full of curiosity and inquiry ; Thoma felt, 
however, in a vague way, that the character of this lad’s 
questioning was remarkable. Years afterward, looking 
back upon this day, he perceived that the boy’s deep, brown 
eyes were fixed with as close a scrutiny on objects to the 
ordinary observer most commonplace as on those gener- 
ally esteemed occasions for wonder. Moreover, much to 
Thoma’s perplexity, there was a certain familiar look in the 
boy’s face which awoke in his own mind a haunting sense 
of previous acquaintance. 

“Art thou not from Galilee, my lad?” he asked, as 
they threaded their way through the crowds. 

“ Yea, kind sir, thou sayest I am.” 

“ And how is it that thou, a stranger lad, art wandering 
the streets of Jerusalem alone at the Passover season? 
Thou art now, I doubt not, a son of the Law ; but surely 
thou didst not come up to the Holy City by thyself. ’Tis 
but a short time since Judah the Gaulanite with his Zeal- 
ots and the soldiers of Antipas were coursing over thy 
country, burning and pillaging on every side.” 

“ Oh, sir, I came not alone to the feast. It is now the 
third day since I stood with my parents in the Temple at 
the morning sacrifice ; and while I watched, behold, they 
departed, and I knew it not.” 

“ Hast thou not sought them? ” 


THE STOEY OF THE MESSIAH. 


93 


“ Indeed, sir, I have, again and again. I go now to the 
Temple to watch there. It is in my Father’s courts that 
they will look for me.” 

“ Verily, lad, if thou didst forget thyself in the court of 
Israel as a moment ago in the street, I wonder not thou 
wast left behind.” 

The youth looked up at him in grave surprise ; then, see- 
ing the kindly expression of Thoma’s face, smiled, and re- 
joined in a reflective way, “ Yea, thou sayest truly ; I did 
forget myself in the Temple, and all else, save the sacriflce, 
and my Father to whom it was offered.” 

It was now Thoma’s turn to look at his companion in 
surprise. My Father ! This was the second time the lad 
had used the term so strangely ; whom did the hoy mean 
by his Father? But as he glanced at the young face he 
forgot the question in another. Whom had he ever seen 
resembling this lad? Surely, the boy himself he had never 
met before, and yet certainly that face was familiar. By 
this time they had passed under the upper Temple bridge, 
— Thoma for once going by the Antonio without an impre- 
cation, — and had arrived at the rock-cut steps leading up 
the side of Mount Moriah. These they climbed in silence, 
pausing occasionally to take breath, and to look down 
into the busy ravine and over at the palaces and closely 
crowded houses of Mount Zion. 

Arrived in the Temple, they traversed successively the 
western cloister, the Royal Porch, and that known as Sol- 
omon’s, the boy, in hope of recognizing his parents, scan- 
ning, as they went, eagerly, but vainly, the faces in the 
moving throngs. The north cloister then, and the more 
sacred inner courts, were searched in like manner ; but 
without success. As they were passing out again at the 
Beautiful Gate, tlieir attention was attracted by a consid- 
erable group of people gathered on the Chel. Drawing 
near, they found that a number of Rabbis had come out 


94 


EMMANUEL ; 


from the hall of the Sanhedrin, in accordance with custom 
on • Sabbaths and feast days, and, from their elevated 
chairs, were teaching the youth seated in semicircular 
array on the pavement at their feet, the people forming an 
outer circle or fringe. The Rabbis and their pupils, young 
men and boys, some from Jerusalem, some from other 
parts of the land, others from Jewish families in widely 
separated parts of the earth, constituted a theological free 
school of an informal character, in which instruction was 
given largely in response to inquiries by the pupils, and 
which any Hebrew youth might join without ceremony. 

The sight was no new one to Thoma. He wondered if 
the Galilman lad would be interested in it. The latter 
plainly was interested, for he looked on with close atten- 
tion, and presently went forward and seated himself among 
the students. Thoma soon saw that he had become obliv- 
ious to everything except the question of the Law under 
discussion. After a number of queries had been made by 
different pupils, the youth from Galilee propounded one ; 
and the question was so searching, reaching the root of the 
matter so perfectly, that Thoma found himself awaiting 
the answer to it with much interest. The answer proved 
difficult to make, and quite a discussion ensued, in the 
course of which the young questioner was himself inter- 
rogated, and led to the giving of answers which, though 
modest, certainly, were yet so ready and so accurate as to 
excite the suprise of students and teachers alike. As the 
instruction went on to other points, the same thing occurred 
repeatedly. The questions showing the most penetration 
and the keenest spirit of inquiry came from the modest, but 
earnest, pupil from Galilee ; while the answers to these 
propounded by the scribes which came from the same 
grave, sweet lips were the ones showing the best knowl- 
edge of the Scriptures and the greatest breadth of thought. 
So manifest, by the time the teaching was over, was the 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


95 


superiority of this lad, that both Rabbis and b3’standcrs 
looked at him in astonishment. Admiration and astonish- 
ment were all the more readily shown from the fact that 
the lad himself was so entirely unconscious of the remark 
he was exciting. He sat in humble posture, like all the 
poorer pupils, listening respectfully, and wholly absorbed 
in the topic under discussion. 

Before the company broke up, Thoma noticed a young 
woman near him who looked at the youth and the Rabbis 
in blank amazement. The profile of her fair countenance 
gave Thoma the same impression of having seen it, or one 
like it, before, which had perplexed him on meeting the boy 
whom all were now admiring. 

“ This is the lad’s mother,” -was his immediate mental 
comment; “she hath found him at last. Verily, she 
knoweth not what to make of his prominence in the class.” 

"When the Rabbis, with carefully disposed garments, 
had taken their departure, the stranger boy arose with his 
companions and turned to go. The moment his eyes fell 
on the young woman’s face, his abstracted look vanished, 
a glad light broke over his face, and with a joyful excla- 
mation he sprang forward and seized her hand in both his 
own. The woman did not recover readily from her 
amazement ; it lingered in her voice when she spoke, and 
shaped her first words. 

“ Son,” she said, “ why hast thou thus dealt with us? 
Behold, thy father and I have sought thee sorrowing.” 

“ How is it that ye sought me elsewhere?” returned the 
boy with a half-puzzled, half-troubled expression ; “ knew 
ye not that I must be in my Father’s house ? ” 

His mother said nothing, though plainly she did not 
understand his reply ; but with her husband turned and 
left the Temple, her son following. Doubtless it was not 
the first time their slow minds had failed to grasp the say- 
ings of their thoughtful and noble child. 


96 


EMMANUEL ; 


Thoma followed the trio with his eyes • as long as they 
remained in sight, and then, descending the short flight of 
steps, walked slowly along the Royal Porch, vainly asking 
himself who among all his acquaintances it was that re- 
sembled this young mother and her son. Presently, he 
raised his eyes toward the lofty cedar roof overhead ; then 
looked down the length of the imposing cloister, and 
thought of its iniquitous and detested builder. How 
many great public works were due to the extravagance 
and taste for magnificence of that vile Herod ! Besides 
the great structures in the Holy City, there was the mar- 
vellous new aqueduct, led from its vast reservoir in the 
heart of the earth far to the south, through the very bowels 
of the mountains, to the pool near Bethlehem, and then 
through and over the hills to the crest of Mount Zion and 
the gardens of the royal palace. There, too, was the 
splendid Herodium, on the hill-top over against Bethlehem, 
which showed so brilliantly at evening in the sunset light. 

Suddenly he stopped short in his walk ; a well-remem- 
bered scene in the past came up before him. A winter 
evening, with the darkness gathering in the streets of 
Bethlehem, while the sun’s last rays gilded Herodium’s 
massive walls ; a young woman seated on an ass in front 
of the khan and gazing down the street toward the sun- 
light-mantled hills eastward, a sweet, rapt expression on 
her fair face, — such were its prominent features. A 
second thought was hardly necessary ; in a moment it all 
flashed across his mind ; that rapt face was the one he 
had been trying to recall for an hour or more ; and he 
knew, too, that the young woman who had just been 
standing by his side was that very Miriam whom he and 
his family held to be the mother of the Messiah. Ah, but 
more, far more ! The noble boy, her son, at whom even 
the Rabbis had wondered, was then no other than Jesus, 
the Messiah, the divinely indicated Deliverer of Israel. 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


9T 


But why had his parents been astonished at finding him 
in the Temple, hanging on the words of the teachers of 
Israel? What more natural than that the thought of a 
high calling should take possession of him, or that he 
should be absorbed in the law of his people ? Thoma did 
not consider the natural effect of twelve years of simple, 
domestic intercourse between parents and child, during 
which the latter had, indeed, “ advanced in wisdom and 
stature and in favour with God and man,” and manifested 
a unique sinlessness and sweetness of character, but in 
which he had shown no signs whatever of things com- 
monly considered marvellous. The young man lost no 
time in seeking to overtake the three ; but the moment he 
w’as in the city street again, he saw that all thought of 
finding them among the Passover throng was idle. Hurry- 
ing therefore to the north gate of the city, he scanned 
closely every group and caravan issuing from it ; but in 
vain. Many went from the city northward that afternoon, 
but Jesus and his parents were not among them. At sun- 
set he learned that a caravan had gone down to Jericho a 
few hours before ; and, confident that those whom he 
sought had taken the Jordan route back to Galilee, he 
abandoned his manifestly hopeless quest and returned to 
Bethlehem to tell his story. 


98 


EMMANUEL ; 


CHAPTER VIL 

THE LEPER IN ISRAEL. 


And the leper in whom the plague is, his clothes shall be rent, and the hair of 
his head shall go loose, and he shall cover his upper lip, and shall cry, Unclean, 
unclean. All the days wherein the plague is in him he shall be unclean; he is 
unclean ; he shall dwell alone; without the camp shall his dwelling be. 

Lev. XIII. 45, 46. 

A COMET with a train of splendour comes to the 
evening sky, and is forthwith the most brilliant 
of all the starry host ; shortly it is gone ; dark- 
ness has received it and enveloped it, and it is forgotten. 
Like the career of such a bright visitor, splendid but 
fleeting, was the meeting of Thoma, son of Salmon, with 
the youthful Christ. For a season, the boy Jesus was the 
chief and central figure in his thoughts ; then, as only 
utter silence met his interest and other matters claimed 
his attention, the incident in the Temple receded into the 
background, and almost passed out of his mind. 

Other matters there were truly to claim his thoughts. By 
the time the early rains set in, in the fall, the observant eye 
of Elisabeth noticed that Asahel was becoming as silent 
and grave as Thoma. The latter was not slow in perceiv- 
ing the fact also ; nor did he fail to note that his brother 
no longer sought opportunity to look upon the maiden 
Tamar. Moreover, when finally the year elapsed during 
which Asahel was to wait for his bride, Thoma saw with 
surprise that his brother apparently sought no interview 
with the old man, nor changed his strange deportment in 
any particular. What could it mean? what had banished 
cheer and animation from the once light-hearted Asahel? 
At last, Thoma overcame his reluctance to speak to his 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


99 


brother about Tamar, and put the question plainly whether 
he had sought his bride at the hands of her father. The 
brothers were down in the valley sowing seed at the time, 
and the whole scene, — ploughed fields round about, the 
terraced orchards and vineyards of the town on the left, 
the hills of the Judaean wilderness rising in irregular 
outline in front and to the right, the dry watercourse at 
their feet winding down the valley, and off eastward 
through the neighbouring ravine to the deep Salt Sea, — 
all remained from that day indelibly stamped in Thoma’s 
memory. His question had scarcely left his lips when his 
heart smote him ; for Asahel lifted a face so deathly pale, 
and so drawn with suffering, that he saw at a glance some- 
thing was sadly wrong. 

“ No, Judah, no,” was the reply, in a strange, hard 
voice; “thou sayest I have not asked of Jesse his 
daughter. Nor shall I ever do so, my brother.” Then, 
in response to Thoma’s exclamation of surprise, “ Come 
hither, Judah,” beckoning to the latter. 

He rolled up the sleeve of his tunic, and exposed the 
inner side of the arm, bared to the shoulder, to his 
brother’s gaze. 

“Ah, Judah! thou knowest it, dost thou?” he ejacu- 
lated bitterly, as the former looked at him in utter dismay. 
“ Yea, verily, it is there, the mark of the curse. And 
look ! ” 

He turned the palms of his hands to his brother’s scru- 
tiny, and lifting the skirt of his tunic showed the knee- 
joints beneath. 

“ Judah,” he went on, looking into Thoma’s troubled 
eyes, and speaking in tones which, though quiet, seemed 
to burn their way into the soul of his auditor; “Judah, 
with those marks upon me, shall I ask for Tamar? I 
know, indeed, I might hide them for months to come ; 
thou only, beside myself, hast seen them. But if thy 


100 


EMMANUEL ; 


brother is smitten in body, his soul is not diseased ; he 
hath not forgotten the God of his fathers. When this 
body, having become a mass of corruption, is laid in the 
sepulchre, and its spirit hath returned to God who gave it, 
no one shall say that Asahel Bar-Salmon dragged down 
with him to a living death the fairest virgin in Bethlehem, 
and fastened a brooding curse on future generations. No, 
Judah, I ask not Jesse for his daughter.’’ 

Quite unconsciously, in his horror at the dreadful 
calamity come to his brother, and through him to the 
whole family, Thoma fell back a step or two. An ago- 
nized cry, bursting from Asahel’s lips, and echoing over 
the surrounding field, recalled him to himself. 

“ Judah, Judah ! my brother, my brother ! art thou for- 
saking me? am I dead to thee already? ” 

Thus, with outstretched arms, the stricken man ; then, 
his hands falling, and his head dropping upon his breast, 
in low tones like the moan of some dying animal, “ O 
my brother, my brother ! ” 

The cry went to the heart of Thoma with the swiftness 
and force of a spear- thrust. His horror of the dread 
disease was forgotten ; and, springing to his brother’s 
side, he flung his arms about him, and wept with the old 
abandon of his childish days. At first the anguish in 
Asahel’s soul could find no relief ; presently, however, his 
brother’s sympathy reached his heart, the fountain of 
tears was opened, and the two men wept as they had not 
done since they were boys together, and the Ethnarch’s 
ruthless barbarians had carried their father away to the 
dungeon cell. Reader, despise them not as weak ; they 
were not weak. They wept because they were strong, — 
strong in love for each other; for Asahel was a leper. 

To the Jew of that day, no more dreadful fate could 
befall one than to be stricken with leprosy. Had a decree 
from Ciesar Augustus arrived, condemning Asahel to 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


101 


death, and had a band of Roman soldiers seized him for 
the execution of the sentence, the brothers would hardly 
have been struck with quite the horror and dismay with 
which this dread disease overwhelmed them. 

The breaking of the dreadful news to the remainder 
of the family some months later need not be recounted ; 
it can be imagined. Before that occurred, however, there 
was another talk between the brothers about Tamar. This 
time Asahel began. 

“ I know not, Judah, whether thou hast fixed thy choice 
upon a maiden whom thou wouldest take to wife.” 

The sentence broke off with a rising inflection, and the 
speaker paused that Thoma might reply. No reply com- 
ing, he went on, “ My brother, if there be no virgin 
precious in thine eyes, I pray thee take Tamar, daughter 
of Jesse, to wife. I would know she was well cared for 
were she in thy house.” 

Thoma’s conscience troubled him. This was the brother 
against whom, in spite of constant efforts to the contrary, 
so many hard thoughts had arisen in his mind. God be 
praised ! he had never yielded to them. How small now 
were all his troubles, seen in the fiery glow of Asahel’s 
furnace of trial ! 


The leprosy proved slow in development. Two years 
passed ; and, though the disease progressed steadily, it 
progressed so slowly that he remained in his father’s hoirsc 
unmolested, the towns-people not having the heart to de- 
mand his expulsion from the community. But the hated 
scab spread wider and wider ; the white scales grew tliicker 
and brighter; the low fever in his veins burned more 
strongly and steadily ; and the young man knew well that 
he was in the power of a disease which might play with him 
for many a long, weary year ; which might for a consider- 
able i>eriod interfere but little with his activity and general 


102 


EMMANUEL ; 


health, and at times seem to make no progress whatever ; 
but which would never release him from its fateful grasp, 
nor suffer him to be other than an outcast among men, — a 
victim with the mark of death written upon him so plainly 
that a child might read it ; one accounted by his fellows as 
dead, and to be looked upon as no better than a corpse. 

Finally, the disease mounted into his forehead ; his eye- 
brows became white as suow ; the ashy hue began to make 
inroads into the masses of his black, glossy hair ; and the 
long-dreaded day of his exposure in the Temple could not 
be further postponed. The reader may judge of the feel- 
ings of his family as they saw the priest examine him for 
an instant, then seize the young man’s tallith and rend it, 
pull the keffiyeh from his head and throw it on the ground, 
with the command to wear, henceforth, a covering for his 
lips, but none upon his head, and to depart from the con- 
gregation of Israel, and dwell alone, apart from the habita- 
tions of men. Then, of a truth, was their cup of sorrow 
full ; it needed but a drop more to make it overflow. And 
overflow it did, presently ; for the Levites gathered around 
the doomed man, and drove him out beyond the city walls. 

“ Depart, depart ! ” they cried. “ Thou art of the dead. 
Depart, and enter not into the habitations of the living.” 

And then, in the tones of the old, loved voice, as yet but 
little affected by the fearful malady, came that wild, de- 
spairing cry, — henceforth to be the invariable salutation 
of the leper, — “ Unclean, unclean ! ” 

So Asahel became an outcast, — one branded by the law as 
a fit object of abhorrence. But, as he had said of himself, 
the leprosy had not reached his soul. There was a lofti- 
ness of spirit in the young man which sustained him even 
under his awful infliction, and kept him from sinking into 
utter despair and abject pauperism. He did not join the 
leper’s colony among the tombs in the valley of Hinnom, 
to live on the dole of his impoverished parents, or the 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


103 


chauce charity of those citizens of Jerusalem, or pilgrims 
to it, whose alms were so plentifully mingled with abhor- 
rence. 

To the east and south-east of Bethlehem, the desolate 
wilderness of Judma is seamed with profound chasms, 
which, in the course of ages, the winter torrents have 
ploughed for themselves in their steep descent to the Dead 
Sea gulf. These tremendous gorges break up and inter- 
rupt, with scenes of wild and savage grandeur, the other- 
wise dreary monoton}^ of the yellow, ashy, and ill-shapen 
hills of the wilderness. Nature’s smile departs as one de- 
scends these great ravines ; but her face, though stern, is 
majestic. These depths and heights and vast masses of 
rock standing forth naked to the eye, speak not less truly 
of their Maker, the Infinite Architect, than other scenes of 
earth more gentle and kindly. It was in the grottoes of 
one of these gorges that Asahel chose to find his abode. 
To live on the outskirts of Bethlehem, as he might have 
done, would have been intolerable to him ; for, while he 
longed to be near his family, the frequent meeting with his 
former neighbours was more than he could bear. From 
that time on, every evening found him at the door of his 
father’s sheepfold, the night and sometimes the day being 
spent in guarding the flock, and the arrival of his father or 
brother the signal for his retreat to his wilderness home. 
In this way he continued to meet the members of his family 
frequently ; he still had a part in their labour, and still 
shared in the fruits of their toil. To the rest of the world, 
he was, in very truth, as one dead. 

During those years of deepening sorrow in the house of 
Salmon, Tamar remained a virgin. Applicants for her 
hand were not few ; but in each case, when the reluctant 
consent of old Jesse had been won, it was found that the 
maiden herself was strongly averse to leaving her father’s 
house ; and the old man was too dependent on her for com- 


104 


EMJIANUEL ; 


fort and cheer in his declining years to second with his 
influence the addresses of her suitors. So Tamar remained, 
year after year, at once the light of her aged father’s house 
and the fairest and most shapely of all the virgins of Beth- 
lehem. And how fair she was ! so delicately curved were 
her cheek and chin ; her eyes and mouth so sweet, pure, and 
expressive. Then, how comely her form, and how grace- 
ful her movements ! 

Often were Thoma’s eyes turned toward her as they met 
in the street, or as he reaped the field in which she gleaned ; 
but now his thought of her was changed. His heart went 
out toward her as of old ; but he regarded her as unattain- 
able to him, because sacred to his brother. Was it not 
plain that her heart was fixed on Asahel? Why otherwise 
should she refuse the many desirable olfers made to her? 
And what belonged to Asahel had now for him a double 
sanctity. Nor could he bring himself to act in accordance 
with the latter’s request, and seek the hand of Tamar in his 
brother’s behalf. Had he not loved the maiden before, he 
said to himself, it might have been ; but now — the thought 
of profiting by his brother’s dire calamity was hateful to him. 

In the course of time, Asahel learned from his father 
that Thoma sought for wife neither among the daughters 
of Bethlehem nor elsewhere. When, therefore, after the 
vintage, Thoma, and not Salmon, came to relieve him, he, 
too, went with the flock as it was led over the hills, and 
questioned his brother on the subject. Thoma made no 
reply at first. 

“ Is not the daughter of Jesse fair to thee, Judah? ” per- 
sisted Asahel. 

“Yea, my brother, exceeding fair.” 

“ Why dost thou not take her to thyself then? ” 

To Thoma’s evasive response that the maiden had re- 
fused many suitors, he rejoined that the former could at 
least seek the prize. 


TUE STOUT OF THE MESSIAH. 


105 


“ My brother, my brother ! ” broke in Thoma, ‘‘ shall I 
profit by thy loss ? Shall my home be bright because thy 
life is dark? Nay, not so. Were the virgin indifferent to 
me, then — I cannot, Asahel, I cannot.” 

The leper gazed into Thoma’s agitated face in surprise. 

“ Judah,” he said presently, in a low, gentle tone, 
“ thou lovedst the daughter of Jesse before ever I sought 
her hand. Is it not so? ” 

There was no reply. 

“ And thou saidst nothing of thy love, but left me free 
to win her if I could ? ” 

Still no reply, though Asahel read the truth in the other’s 
eyes. 

“ But, Judah, thou must seek the maiden. Thy claim is 
as good as mine, and ” — 

“Nay, my brother, nay ! I cannot seek to profit by thy 
loss. The virgin is thine. Behold, I doubt not, she hath 
refused the young men of Bethlehem through love for thee. 
Say no more of the matter, Asahel ; the daughter of Jesse 
is thine.” 

And nothing more would he say or hear. 

Nevertheless, it was not to be as Thoma had determined. 
God’s thoughts are not always man’s thoughts, even when 
the latter seem to spring from the most sacred depths of 
his being. In this case, despite every apparent indication 
to the contrary, the Disposer of events had destined Tamar 
for Thoma, second son of Salmon Ben-Eliab. 

Spring opened in February and March with its usual 
transitory glory. Most beautiful and delightful were the 
prospects on every side, — beautiful to the visitor from any 
part of the earth ; doubly so to eyes like those of the 
Hebrews of Judaea, accustomed to arid landscapes during 
the long summer months, and a general prevalence of brown 
and gray tints in their natural surroundings throughout the 
greater part of the year. The vineyards, on their countless 


106 


EMMANUEL ; 


and tier -like terraces encircling and mantling the hills, 
were luxuriant masses of deepest green ; the forest rem- 
nants in the ravines, and the few oak-trees still standing 
along the road to Jerusalem, together with the many fig 
orchards meeting the eye, added their verdure to the scene ; 
while even the olive-trees, which, with all their picturesque- , 
ness and silvery beauty when seen near by, are generally 
gray and dusty enough at a distance, had taken on a fresh 
hue and a tinge of greenness with the return of spring. 
And eastward, toward the wilderness, what a metamorpho- 
sis ! Those barren, desert slopes literally blossomed as the 
rose, so that scarcely a trace of brown or yellow soil or 
ashy rock was to be seen. The very hills showed scarlet 
and purple and golden from the brief, but lavish, splendour 
of their garb. In compensation for the parched months to 
follow. Nature had emptied her lap of its floral treasures in 
a generous profusion rare in any land where verdure abides 
the summer through. On the heights, or in the neglected 
portions of the valley, appeared anemones and caper 
plants, pinks, poppies, and tulips, and other fair and bril- 
liant flowers ; while numberless species of marjoram, thyme, 
and lavender made their presence known by their fra- 
grance. As the Passover season drew near, with the ces- 
sation of the latter rains and the increased power of the 
sun’s rays, the beauty faded and the splendour diminished, 
what remained becoming darker and sometimes richer in 
hue. But there were compensations for the incipient 
parching of the earth, for harvest was at hand. Bloom 
was giving place to bounty ; flowers, to the beginning of 
fruitage. In the valley below Bethlehem the sheaves of 
yellow barley — on the land of Salmon cut for the first 
time by Thoma alone — lay thickly strewn over the field ; 
while the ripening wheat, still standing, gave promise of a 
bountiful harvest a week or two later. 

And with the coming of this spring-time came a change 


THE STORY OF THE 31 ES SI A II. 


107 


in Thoma. Notwithstanding the great sorrow brooding 
over his house, his heart responded to the influences of the 
season ; it experienced the natural rebound after the pain- 
ful strain to which it had been subjected. Peace stole 
into it almost unconsciously as he reaped the golden grain. 
That sympathy with nature which had been slowly develop- 
ing in him awaked as spring advanced, with her steps 
attended by warmth and beauty, and her hands filled with 
plentiful crops. There came to him a growing content -with 
the dispositions of Providence and a brighter outlook 
upon the world around him. Surely God, who had made 
the earth so fair and fruitful, would in some way in the 
alfairs of men, sooner or later, cause peace and blessing to 
prevail. Men are not born for sorrow, however much 
thereof it may be their lot to experience. There is that 
within them which instinctively turns from gloom and 
looks toward the light as its natural element. So, by the 
very force of natural reaction, the thoughts of Thoma be- 
came less gloomy, more awake to the brighter side of life, 
and of a more contented and healthful character. 

Meanwhile he was far from unmindful that Tamar, as 
well as Asahel, was absent from the harvest-field. At 
first he noted her absence without surprise ; doubtless she 
was mourning for her betrothed. But as the end of the 
harvest approached, and she did not appear, he found 
himself hungering for the sight of her again. 

“ The Lord be with thee, Ben-Jonadab,’* he said one 
day, as the now infirm Jesse passed by the place where he 
was at work. 

“ The Lord bless thee, my son.” 

“ Wherefore cometh not the daughter of Jesse to glean 
with the other maidens ? Have the young men spoken ill 
to the damsel ? ” 

A troubled look came over the old man’s face. 

“Nay, not so, my son ; but the virgin may not look on 


108 


EMMANUEL ; 


the Lord’s daylight in its strength. I greatly fear the 
Most High is drawing a veil before her sight, and her eyes 
will be darkened.” 

“ Thou dost not mean, Jesse, that Tamar groweth 
blind ! ” 

“ Alas, my son ! I fear it is even so ; but may the Lord 
forbid,” and Jesse, stalf in hand, went slowly and sadly 
on his way. 

The young man continued his work mechanically, while 
his thoughts and his heart flew to the house in the 
town above where a fair maiden sat in the shadow, ex- 
cluded from the labour and festivities of the harvest, and 
unable to enjoy the beauty of hill and vale, air and 
sky. The thought of her made his heart swell with grief. 
Tamar blind ! Those deep, dark eyes, so fllled with 
beauty, clouded, and the light of day excluded ! 

This was too painful to believe ; surely this could not 
be. As he climbed the hill to the town that evening, the 
prospect was not less fair than it had been in the morning ; 
but for him a shadow had fallen upon it. Beautiful still 
it was, but changed in its beauty. The music which his 
ears were learning to hear was pitched now to a minor 
key ; a strain of sadness had been introduced into the 
grand, sweet symphony of nature. 

The barley harvest went by, and a little later the wheat 
was gathered ; then the yellow grain was trodden out on 
the hard threshing ground by the patient oxen ; and 
through all the labour of the busy days Thoma saw nothing 
of Tamar, except the occasional glimpse of her caught at 
evening, as with the other women she bore her water-jar 
through the city gate. Indirectly he learned that her eyes 
grew worse and not better, and that it was sadly manifest 
that soon she would be unable to see at all. Then a great 
longing mastered the young man, — a longing to comfort 
and shield his beloved in her affliction. Old Jesse had not 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


109 


long to live ; any day he might sleep with his fathers. 
Who then would care for the damsel ? A little property 
would come to her, doubtless, and she was exceeding fair, 
beyond question ; but even so, who among the young men 
of Bethlehem would care to take a blind girl to wife? 
Surely it could not be self-seeking to come to the help of 
the daughter of Jesse in her great need. He went there- 
fore to her father, and found him feeble indeed ; plainly 
the old man’s remaining days on earth were few. 

“Jesse Ben-Jonadab,” said Thoma earnestly, “thou 
wilt soon be laid with thy fathers.” 

“ Yea, my son ; for man goeth to his long home.” 

“ My father, wilt thou give me thy daughter to wife ere 
thou goest ? ” 

“ Verily, I will, Judah, my son,” said the old man, with 
brightening countenance ; “ but thou knowest, Thoma, she 
is blind.” 

“ Yea, I know it.” 

He and Tamar had known each other from their earliest 
recollection. As children, they had played together in the 
streets of Bethlehem. Moreover, Jesse was very infirm. 
Thoma therefore waited not for the usual parental presen- 
tation of the suit, but rose and went into the only other 
room of the house, to which Tamar had retreated. He 
found her standing at the doorway looking into the street, 
which was not dark, it being only just sunset, but which, 
to her failing sight, seemed filled with haze and gloom. 
At his approach she turned, and they stood face to face. 
As he looked into her eyes, and thought of the fair world 
which was passing awa}’ from their view, all his great love 
and compassion stirred within him, showed in his face, and 
when he spoke quivered in his voice. The expression of 
his face she could see only dimly ; but with the first words 
spoken his heart was open to the girl ; and, though he said 
but little of himself and his own strong love, she caught 
the undertone and understood. 


110 


EMMANUEL ; 


“ Tamar,” he commenced abruptly, “ wilt thou not come 
to me to wife ? ” 

Then, giving her no time to reply, he spoke of her 
father’s approaching decease and her need of a home ; of 
Asahel, her presumed preference for him, and the latter’s 
request in regard to her. It was a strange wooing, cer- 
tainly, that of this strong, young son of Bethlehem 
pleading with a blind girl for her hand and urging upon 
her, not the claims of his own true heart, but her own 
needs and his brother’s request. His arguments exhausted, 
he gazed anxiously into her face, awaiting her reply. It 
came in the shape of a very natural question. 

“Judah, I am blind. By another harvest time the 
world will be shut out from my sight. How can I come 
to thee thus stricken by God? I shall be a burden, a 
curse, to thee, not a blessing. What need hast thou of a 
blind wife?” 

“O Tamar!” was the quick rejoinder, “what need of 
thee ? Ask the eye what need it hath of light ; ask the 
corn what its need of the sun, or a child what its need of 
its mother. As a lily among thorns, my beloved, so art 
thou to me among the daughters ; far more precious than 
silver and gold ; more to be desired than rubies.” 

The girl’s response was direct and sweet. 

“ Yea, Judah, thou shalt take me to thy house ; I will 
be thy wife.” 

j She extended her hands ; and, wondering at the great 
‘ happiness come to him, he took them in his. Looking into 
his face then with an expression lovely beyond anything 
he had seen before, the girl added, “Yea, thou sayest 
truly, Judah, I have long loved Asahel, thy brother; 
for” — breaking off with a soft laugh; then, in a low 
tone — “ is he not thy brother? ” 

“ Yea, he is indeed,” said Thoma stupidly. 

“ O Judah, Judah I ” broke in Tamar laughingly, “ thou 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


Ill 


art blind, not I. Art thou so slow ? Must I tell it thee 
plainly ? Asahel would be nothing to me were he not thy 
brother.’* 

At that a light broke over Thoma’s face, transforming 
it, as a flood of sunshine bursting through heavy clouds 
after a day of storm will sometimes transform earth and 
sky with its effulgence ; and as, we may well believe, an 
hour’s experience in a blessed world to come will change 
and glorify countenances which here are plain and rugged, 
toil-marked and care-worn. To Thoma, then, the bitter 
years of the past were as though they had never been. 
Forgotten, compensated for, carried away, were they in the 
happiness which seemed to flow around him like a river ; 
and with that stream of blessing encompassing the two, 
and sweeping them on in glad content, let us leave them, 
my reader. Their story during those happy days is an 
old story, a world-wide story, and yet an ever-new one. 


112 


EMMANUEL ; 


CHAPTER VIII. 


THE USURER. 


Woe to them that devise iniquity and work evil upon their bedsl . . . And 
they covet fields, and seize them; and houses, and take them away; and they 
oijpresB a man and his house, even a man and his heritage. 

Micah II. 1, 2. 

the evening when, with quiet rejoicings, Thoma 
Jj brought the daughter of Jesse to his home, he lived 
in an atmosphere of peace and gladness, — a glad- 
ness often shadowed, it is true, but never dissipated, by 
the sight of his brother’s malady and his father’s broken 
health. Soon little children came to his house to add to 
his joy and their mother’s ; and fair, childish faces, in 
which were set dark, liquid eyes, such as Tamar’s had 
been, were turned up to his, and sweet child-voices called 
him father. It mattered little to him, in those years of 
l)eace and blessing, that his toil increased steadily as time 
went on, and that, finally, the whole labour of tilling his 
father’s land devolved upon him. The man was strong, 
and the labour, though often severe, was cheerfully per- 
formed. 

When, however, his oldest son still lacked several years 
of becoming a son of the Law, clouds again gathered in 
the sky of Thoma Bar-Salmon. Year by year it became 
harder to pay the interest money due to Simon the Phari- 
see ; for beside the growing demands of his family, a new 
source of serious expense appeared in the increasing ill- 
health of his mother. The young man insisted that she 
should consult a physician, and when she gained no help 
from one, he brought her another. But the only effect of 
their visits was to exhaust the little store of money laid by ; 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


113 


the disease of Elisabeth was beyond the skill of Jewish 
healers. 

The time came, at last, when the threatened storm-cloud 
broke ; the possibility which Thoma had seen and dreaded 
once and again, and against which he had hoped and 
prayed, became actuality. A year of large expense coin- 
cided with one of scant and long-delayed rainfall. The 
early and the latter rains were virtually withheld ; the crops 
depended on the winter storms alone, and the harvests 
were poor all through the land. Nevertheless, the con- 
scienceless publican farming the taxes in Bethlehem insisted 
on levying the same impost as the year before, — an amount 
inordinate and oppressive in a year of plenty. Thoma 
soon discovered that he could not pay Simon the stipulated 
usury from his own funds ; equally clear was it that he 
could not borrow from his neighbours, for all were alike 
involved in loss and failure. He did not give up hope, 
however. Surely, he said to himself, Simon would allow 
a little additional time for payment on such a year as this. 
Never before had he been kept waiting in all these years. 
Moreover, Simon was a great Pharisee ; the praise of his 
piety was heard in the best circles of Jerusalem ; surely he 
would not oppress a debtor. 

Thoma was mistaken. Increasing years had only served 
to develop and confirm Simon’s naturally hard and grasp- 
ing disposition. Many a time had he cast a covetous eye 
over the fair fields of his debtor, and chafed inwardly that 
the prompt annual payments of the interest left him no 
pretext on which to seize them. When, therefore, Thoma, 
seeking an interview with his creditor, was admitted 
through the vaulted archway of the latter’s mansion in 
Jerusalem, and shown into, his presence, he found a cold 
and disdainful reception awaiting him. Simon was reclin- 
ing on a divan, in the grateful coolness of an arched recess 
at the western end of the spacious and blooming court- 


114 


EMMANUEL ; 


yard, — a retreat to which the glowing August sun had 
driven him. He listened with affected indifference while 
the young man told his story, offered half the sum due, 
and begged his creditQr to have mercy upon him for a sea- 
son, promising to make up the remainder of the amount 
at the earliest possible moment. At the conclusion, the 
Pharisee eyed his victim with a keen, hard gaze, in which 
a gleam of triumph was but imperfectly concealed. The 
man’s aquiline nose seemed to grow in sharpness, and to 
incline more than ever toward the pointed, prominent chin, 
while the thin lips were pressed together like a vice. 

“Thou knowest the law, Bar-Salmon,” he said coldly. 
“ Verily, as saith the Scriptures, ‘ The sluggard will not 
plough by reason of the cold ; therefore shall he beg in 
harvest, and have nothing/ ” 

“ But, sir, I have ploughed faithfully, and laboured the 
year through. Were it not for the poor season, my har- 
vests would be of the best, and I would now pay thee 
all thy due.” 

“What!” returned Simon sanctimoniously, with ges- 
tures of pious horror, “ art thou a son of Abraham, and 
layest thou thy lack to the charge of the God of Israel, 
who sendeth the rain and the sunshine ? Depart from me ; 
let me see thy face no more ; thou art an offence unto me. 
Thou knowest the law ; if the money is not paid by the 
-new moon, the land is mine.” 

The speaker waved his hand ; and before Thoma’s dis- 
may had time to turn to indignation, the servants had shut 
him out into the street. 

It wms in no amiable mood that the son of Salmon pur- 
sued his way back to Bethlehem. For years he had known 
that he was paying Simon an exorbitant interest ; and it 
had caused him many a bitter hour that a Pharisee, an 
elder in Israel, a member of the Sanhedrin, had taken 
advantage of his father’s dire extremity to exact such hard 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


115 


terms. Now the man’s strong nature was thoroughly 
roused. He saw plainly enough that Simon was ready to 
use any pretext to rob him of his inheritance, and he 
vowed that the foul scheme should, be foiled. He would 
give himself no rest, he said, till he found another who 
would loan him a half-talent on the land, and free him 
from the clutches of this legal oppressor. The robber ! 
why could he not be content with his present fortune? 
or was the despoilment of debtors his customary means of 
acquiring wealth? Were men of great wealth always 
spoilers ? Then what a hypocrite, to call upon the Script- 
ures and the God of Israel to sanction his wickedness ! 
He knew full well, as every man who read the Law must 
know, that the Scriptures condemned the oppression of the 
poor. 

Forthwith there came trooping into his mind memories 
of other acts of oppression and fraud practised by promi- 
nent Pharisees, and even by noted scribes, — memories that 
were so many witnesses arraigning at the bar of his judg- 
ment the religious and the professedly patriotic leaders of 
his people. As for the Sadducees, was it not notorious 
that their leader, Hanan, son of Seth, whom the Procura- 
tor, Valerius Gratus, had just removed from the High 
Priesthood, had fattened on the spoil of the poor by means 
of that very provision of the Law designed for their pro- 
tection? Had not the family of this man held a monopoly 
of the sale of doves and pigeons ; and had they not most 
unjustly both raised the price of these creatures and mul- 
tiplied the occasions on which they were to be offered? 
For the first time in his life, Thoma brought conscious and 
angry challenge, not only against individuals in the leading 
parties of the nation, but against the very system of Levit- 
ical and Rabbinical observances which these maintained, 
and to the supposed importance of which they owed their 
existence. And his challenge was with good reason ; the 


116 


EMjMANUEL ; 


system was decayed and nearing its end. It belonged to 
the early twilight of Israel and the world, whereas human- 
ity was yearning for the day. It was under the control — 
and, as it proved, hopelessly so — of men, some of whom 
were evil of heart, all of whom, with very few exceptions, 
were utterly blinded in understanding. It was not suffi- 
cient — as, indeed, in no case is it sufficient — to redeem 
such a system that many good men were to be found who 
upheld it ; that, for example, when the priests had raised 
the prices of sacrificial animals, to the great hardship of 
the poor, a rich man would occasionally interpose, in real 
and munificent charity, and provide from his own resources 
offerings for the humbler worshippers. Systems and insti- 
tutions, like individuals, are to be judged by their fruits, — 
their own, their customary, their natural fruits, — not by 
the sporadic acts of certain adherents who, in fact, draw 
their inspiration from other sources. 

A storm had broken over the house of Salmon, indeed. 
His son found it impossible, even with the most diligent 
search and the most earnest appeals, to find a new creditor. 
It was not that his property was not abundantly sufficient 
as security ; there was no question about that. But none 
of his friends had the money to lend, however great their 
good-will, and the rich men of Jerusalem proved one and 
all unwilling to advance the amount. At first this fact 
greatly puzzled as well as disappointed Thoma ; after- 
ward, on stumbling upon its explanation, perplexity gave 
place to rancour and despair. Simon, he discovered acci- 
dentally, had taken pains to let it be understood among 
the princes and richer merchants of Jerusalem that Sal- 
mon’s estate was his by right, and had been kept from him 
for years by systematic imposition upon his mercy and 
generosity ; and that, his eyes being now open, he was 
about to assert his rights and take possession of his own. 
It is doubtful if any of the money-lenders were deceived 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


117 


by the lying pretence ; but all recognized that to step be- 
tween him and his prey was to incur the enmity of a pow- 
erful member of the Sanhedrin, who would neither forget 
nor forgive. Then Thoma’s heart sank within him. What 
could one poor peasant do against an adversary with arms 
so long as this? What was there for him but to submit 
to his fate, and wait until the God of his fathers should 
send him the hour of vengeance? When that hour came, 
he said savagely, it would be seen whether a son of Beth- 
lehem could drive a blade home to the heart of his foe. 

Before the impending new calamity, now evidently not 
to be averted, — a calamity which would deprive him of the 
home and the land of his fathers, — Salmon, whose strength 
had been failing for years, paled and withered as under 
a physical blight. He called Thoma to the side of his 
couch, and fixed his eyes upon his son’s face. 

“The oppressor will soon turn thee from thine inherit- 
ance and from thy father’s house. ‘ The Lord gave, and 
the Lord^hath taken away: blessed be the name of the 
Lord.’” 

A sorrowful silence followed. In the young man’s mind, 
wrath and hatred were drowned for the moment in the ten- 
derness and sorrow welling up at the sight of his father’s 
shrunken form. 

“ Judah, my son,” Salmon went on presently in an 
altered tone, “ despair not, but trust in the God of Israel. 
Doubt not, my son ; the Promised One is at hand. Thou 
shalt yet see him appear ; and with his coming better days 
will dawn for thee and thine. As for Salmon, they will 
not need to drive the old man from his home ; his days are 
numbered ; soon will he sleep with his fathers.” 

Then, feebly raising himself to a sitting posture, and 
laying his trembling hands on Thoma’s head, — 

“Judah, let a father’s blessing go with thee; for thou 
hast been a good son to me and thy mother. Like Joseph, 


118 


EMMANUEL ; 


son of Jacob our father, thou art a fruitful bough, my son, 
— a fruitful bough by a fountain, whose branches run over 
the wall. The archers have sorely grieved thee, and shot 
at thee ; but thy bow abides in strength, and the arms of 
thy hands are made strong by the hands of the Mighty One 
of Jacob, who shall help thee ; and by the Almighty, who 
shall bless thee.” 

The old man repeated the patriarch’s words with much 
of the fire of his earlier years, an unwonted flush tingeing 
his withered cheek the while. The moment his utterance 
ceased, however, the light departed from his face, his 
strength deserted him, and he fell back on his bed uncon- 
scious. From that hour his decline was rapid. 


Soon the watchers on the mountains around Jerusalem 
hastened to the city and the hall of the Sanhedrin to 
report the presence of the crescent moon in the sunset 
sky, just above the shining waters of the Great Sea. The 
news was carried up and down the land, not, as formerly, 
by signal fires on the hill-tops, — the Samaritans in their en- 
mity having taken to lighting false beacons, — but by swift 
runners ; and thereupon the feast of the new moon was 
celebrated, and another month began. Thereupon, also, 
Simon, the Pharisee, true to his word, despatched the offi- 
cers of the law to seize the property of his debtor, Salmon 
Ben-Eliab. The men discharged their duty in the face 
of the silent indignation of Thoma and his family ; and 
scarcely a trace of Salmon’s property was left, except the 
little flock out on the hills, and the few articles of furni- 
ture required for the simple life of a Jewish family. The 
men were probably more merciful than the creditor him- 
self would have been ; for, when they found that Salmon 
was evidently dying, they refrained from immediate eject- 
ment, and granted the family a week in which to effect 
their removal. 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


119 


But there was no need of great delay on Salmon’s ac- 
count. Scarcely had the officers departed when, in a voice 
but little above a whisper, he called his family about him, 
and gave them all his blessing, and then begged his son to 
carry him up to the house roof, that he might look around 
once more on the old familiar landscape. There, propped 
up on his mattress, taking a last look over the arena of 
his life’s drama, he lay through the closing hours of that 
autumn day ; and, just as the sunlight departed from the 
mountain- tops of Moab, the old man’s spirit left its mor- 
tal tenement, and returned to the God who gave it ; the 
earthly house of his tabernacle was dissolved, and Salmon 
entered that building from God, that “house not made 
with hands, eternal, in the heavens.” But let not the 
reader suppose that this grand truth had the solacing 
power for sorrowing hearts then that it has had in the 
ages since. The gates of death had not then been burst 
asunder by the triumphant Christ, and few beams of the 
surpassing glory beyond reached the mourner’s weeping 
eyes. The Rabbis had, indeed, taught the people the 
doctrine of a resurrection of the dead ; but to the com- 
mon people it was hardly more than a speculation. The 
Sadducees challenged the doctrine, while the most ancient 
and sacred Scriptures seemed to be silent in regard to it. 
“ Salmon sleepeth with his fathers,” was the comment of 
the neighbours, and the greater part of what was really 
believed in regard to him. 

With great lamentation, therefore, in the early morning, 
was his body deposited for its long repose in one of those 
cave sepulchres in which so many of his line had been laid 
before. With great lamentation, likewise, did the crowd 
of sympathetic friends accompany the bereaved family 
back to their home, now, alas ! theirs no longer. Not with 
silent desolation and a sense of emptiness were the widow 
and her son greeted as they reentered the house ; on the 


120 


EMMANUEL ; 


contrary, their few rooms were crowded with relatives and 
friends, and noisy with the clamour of Oriental mourning. 
Knowing that seclusion, so difficult at all times to secure 
in an Eastern house, would be impossible within doors on 
that day of grief, Thoma, who longed to be alone with his 
sorrow, soon withdrew from his friends and their well- 
meant but distasteful condolences, and leaving the town 
behind him strode down the hill to the dry watercourse in 
the valley. Mechanically he looked over the landscape 
beyond, then arid, brown, and desolate ; Asahel and the 
flock were not to be seen. But then he knew they would 
not be there ; pasturage was difficult to find at that season, 
when four mouths of fierce and relentless sunshine, uutem- 
pered by a single shower of rain, had parched the soil, 
scorched the wilderness slopes to one wearisome and even re- 
pulsive hue of ashy brown, and burned up every trace of 
vegetation not watered by perennial stream, or fountain, or 
the labour of man. Looking over the arid landscape, he 
thought of the father to whom the scene was so familiar, 
alike in the brief splendour of spring and in the long deso- 
lation of summer, but who would look upon it no more. 
Alas, how fit a symbol of the life of man was the scanty 
dead herbage around him ! The poet-king of Israel was 
right : — 


“ As for rnan his days ai’e as grass ; 

As a flower of the field, so he flourisheth. 

For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone ; 
And the place thereof shall know it no more.” 


This thought proved itself the solvent which at last 
broke down the hard, almost despairing composure which 
the young man had manifested hitherto. He dropped to 
the ground, regardless of the hot soil and the glowing sun- 
shine, and rending his tallith, covering his head with dust, 
and weeping aloud, gave himself up to a paroxysm of 


THE STORY OF THE IIESSIAIf. 


121 


grief. When it was over he arose and wandered south- 
ward and westward, careless alike of direction and the 
torrid heat, and concerned only with the sad and hitter 
thoughts that in succession possessed his mind. Over and 
over he thought of the events of the last month ; repeat- 
edly, also, his memory brought up the days of former 
calamity ; till, forgetful of the manly years of blessing 
which had come to him, it seemed to the man that he and 
his were the objects of constant disaster and wrong. 

Occupied with these dark musings, he crossed without 
notice the two aqueducts leading from Solomon’s pools, — 
the one to Herod’s gardens, below the Herodium, the other- 
around the hills through the orchards and vineyards of 
Bethlehem, and so on northward to the Temple at Jerusa- 
lem. The great pools themselves lying among the hills, 
and the luxuriant gardens and terraces below them, in the 
ancient valley of Etham, — where Solomon made for him- 
self a little paradise, — drew from him only a passing and 
indifferent glance. Not so, however, an object which 
shortly afterward came into view. Aroused by the tramp 
of many feet, he looked up to discover that he was near 
the road from Hebron northward, by which a Roman co- 
hort was marching to Jerusalem. He watched the soldiers 
closely enough, but with no friendly eye, till the glittering 
array had passed around the spur of a neighbouring hill 
and disappeared ; then he wandered on with his stormy 
thoughts running in a new channel. 

They were Romans. Romans ! How fine they looked, 
with their serried ranks, their perfect order, and their 
shining armour ! What handsome crests and shields ! What 
ponderous javelins and stout two-edged swords ! Who 
could marvel that his people had been unable to withstand 
them? What people had withstood them? And what a 
curse they were ! It was to them that all the sorrows of his 
nation and his house were due. It was they who had set 


122 


EMMANUEL ; 


up Herod and Arclielaiis and Valerius Gratus to misgovern 
and plunder Israel. It was they who were crushing the 
Lord’s people to the earth more and more, year by year. 
Would to God that the Promised One were come, that the 
land might be freed of the whole hateful brood ! 

Presently the young man, finding himself on the decliv- 
ity of a hill rearing itself some distance above most of 
those round about, turned his steps in an aimless way 
toward the white, chalky crest. At the summit he could 
not but be impressed with the prospect spread out before 
him, parched though much of it was by the fierce heats of 
summer. A few miles away to the north, perched on its 
rocky hill, lay grove-embowered Bethlehem, one of the 
grottos of which held the dead form of his father ; beyond 
it, with a wilderness of hill-tops dotted with villages for a 
background, was spread out the Holy City itself, with her 
towers, her palaces, and her holy Temple. Eastward, the 
eye, after resting with pleasure on the green and fruitful 
oasis of the valley of Etham, wandered over the wilderness 
around and beyond the ruins of ancient Tekoa, where 
shapeless ashy hills, profound gorges, and countless minor 
ravines wearied its gaze, and rested finally on the purple 
mountain-wall beyond the deep and blue Sea of Salt ; 
while westward, the great hill-spurs — often naked, with 
yellow soil exposed to the sunlight ; often crowned with 
hamlets and their green environs — stretched in bewilder- 
ing ramifications to the fertile plain of Philistia and the 
boundless Uttermost Sea. 

The familiar landscape, however, moved Thoma to grief 
for the departed glories of liis people, rather than to inter- 
est in its beautiful or remarkable features. What notable 
deeds ancient Israel had wrought in this country, where 
now there was none to deliver from the hand of the oppres- 
sor ! Olf yonder, in that plain by the sea, lay the valley 
of Elah, where the youthful David had vanquished the 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


123 


giant Goliath ; and in the same direction rose prominently 
the rocky hill of Etam, on which the mighty Samson had 
made his home, and to which he had retired after the 
slaughter of the Philistines. There in plain sight was 
Jerusalem, the home of the great kings of his race, on 
whose walls and in whose environs so many deeds of might 
had been done ; while beyond and west of it, though shut 
out of view by the hills, were the glorious battle-fields of 
Eramaus and Beth Horon, on which Judah the Maccabee 
had hurled back the invading armies of Syrian Greeks. 
Eastward, the very gorge of Berachah, in which the vast 
hosts of Midian were miraculously overthrown in the days 
of King Jehoshaphat, sprang from the central watershed 
but a short distance to the right. 

Suddenly Thoma’s rising exultation was checked, and 
his countenance fell ; for his eye rested on the road from 
Hebron to Jerusalem skirting the western base of the hill 
on which he stood. In a moment there came back to him 
the well-known story of the great battle fought on that 
highway at the very pass below him. He saw in imagina- 
tion the columns of the vast Greek host coming up from 
the south, with all the pomp of splendid armour, gorgeous 
trappings, and, worst of all, a long line of elephants, each 
of the last named, with the men supporting it, being, in 
Jewish estimation, equal to an army. He saw his country- 
men stricken with panic, and flying before the terrible 
array, the redoubtable Judah seeking in vain to rally 
them ; following which came the picture of the recapture 
of Jerusalem, and the destruction of her great rampart- 
walls. Ah, that disastrous battle ! what a rude stumbling- 
block to Jewish pride, and discouragement to Jewish 
valour ! Even Judah, Israel's most glorious chieftain since 
the Babylonian captivity, had been defeated by the imcir- 
cumcised when the latter put forth their full strength. 
Perchance the like might happen under a new deliverer — 
but this thought was intolerable. 


124 


EMMANUEL ; 


With a vague idea of seeking his brother, he hurried 
from the hill, and went eastward into the wilderness. He 
did not succeed in leaving unwelcome reflections behind 
him, however. The thought of Judah’s defeat at Beth 
Zechariah went with him, and finally forced upon him a 
juster estimate of the Roman rulers of the land. He 
had been hasty in making them the scapegoat for all the 
wrong-doing through which he and his people had suffered. 
With the thought of the terrible contest of his forefathers 
with the Greeks of Antioch in mind, he found himself 
admitting that, with all their faults, the Romans were by 
no means so bad as they might be. No Roman ruler had 
tortured the women of Jerusalem for circumcising their 
children, nor forced them to walk the streets of the Holy 
City with the bodies of their murdered infants fastened 
about their necks. No Roman legion had burned the gates, 
overthrown the walls, and all but destroyed the Temple of 
the Lord ; nor had Roman hands erected that abomination 
of desolation, — an idol altar smoking with vile swine’s 
flesh on the great altar sacred to the God of Israel. Such 
barbarity and awful impiety had been the work of Greek, 
not Roman, oppressors. Moreover, the Roman Varus had 
pardoned his father, while Archelaus had ruined him ; a 
Jew, a son of Abraham, — bitter and unwelcome fact! — 
being his betrayer and the instrument of the tyrant. A 
Jew, too, it was, a Jew of the Sanhedrin, who had hastened 
Salmon’s death, and with relentless greed deprived his sou 
of the inheritance of his fathers. 

These sombre reflections soon brought him to question- 
ings, which, like a rising sea, threatened to sweep his mind 
from its moorings altogether. Ills which could be traced 
to men, heathen or Hebrew, by no means made up the sum 
of his misfortunes. Who, demanded an inner voice, had 
sent blindness to Tamar, and caused leprosy to blight, with 
its living death, the flesh of his brother ? Alas ! there was 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH, 


125 


no scapegoat on which to lay the responsibility for these 
great afflictions. But wliy had the Most High sent them 
to his family? was it, as the Rabbis would say, because 
they had sinned against Him? Thoma repelled the idea 
indignantly. If they, the good and true, had merited such 
punishment, how was it -that ungodly neighbours lived pros- 
perously and without calamity? Neither could their suf- 
fering be the result of the sin of their parents, for the 
latter were in nowise sinners above their generation. 

Such questionings, running into problems for which the 
race had then found no adequate solution, were, of course, 
beyond Thoma’s answering. He had come face to face 
with the great facts of human depravity unreproved, and 
human suffering apparently unmerited and uncalled for ; 
and the two combined to form an insoluble and grievous 
enigma. It was the more grievous that it lessened his in- 
terest in Israel’s great hope of a Deliverer. Against such 
evils how could even the Messiah contend? Could he 
change the human heart, and teach it justice in place of 
cruelty, mercy instead of rapacity? Or would he be able 
to give sight to the blind, cleansing to the leper? And if 
not, would his coming be so great a blessing to the land 
after all ? Alas ! there were greater woes than foreign 
domination. How many, doubtless, were there in Israel 
like himself, caring not so much for a saving in taxes, 
welcome as that would be, as for justice from their own 
countrymen, and release from calamity and disease? Had 
Thoma been of Roman birth, he would very likely have 
doubted the justice or the existence of the God of his 
fathers ; but Shemitic peoples do not readily follow paths 
of infidelity. Instead, he returned mentally to the human 
authors of his misfortunes, and covered their names with 
imprecations. 

Suddenly a loud peal of thunder, rolling from cloud to 
cloud overhead, and echoing among the hills, recalled him 


126 


EMMANUEL ; 


to a sense of outward matters. Looking about him, he 
perceived that, all unnoticed by himself, a storm, the first 
of the season, and the beginning of the early rains, had 
been gathering, and was about to break. The heavens 
toward the south-west were piled high with black and lurid 
clouds the van of which reached up. past the zenith, and was 
rapidly moving toward the opposite horizon. Southward, 
the path of the coming tempest was marked by a great yel- 
low wall of dust, obscuring everything beyond it, and itself 
pushed oil by a furious, rushing wind. Thoma saw that 
not a moment was to be lost if he would escape the rain ; 
in a few minutes the arid hills round about would be del- 
uged with floods from the skies, and every hollow become 
the bed of a torrent. 

A glimpse through the now dusty air of the ruined walls 
of old Tekoa — birthplace of the prophet Amos — behind 
him, and a glance at the familiar cliffs of the great chasm 
near by, the sheer precipices of which dropped to a tre- 
mendous depth, sufficed to tell him his locality ; and, with 
another hasty look at the swiftly coming storm, he girded 
himself, and ran rapidly along the brink of the gorge till 
he came to a faintly marked path leading over the edge of 
the cliff and along a narrow shelf on the face of the preci- 
pice. A stranger threading that perilous track would have 
walked with utmost care, and with many an anxious glance 
into the gulf below ; but Thoma sped along the ledge with 
the confidence and skill of a mountaineer in his familiar 
haunt. On climbing a huge fallen rock, the desired place 
of shelter revealed itself in the shape of a window, some 
three or four feet high, in the perpendicular wall of the 
rock. It was the entrance to a large cave, not infrequently 
inhabited by Nazarites, — a few centuries later by Chris- 
tian anchorites, — and well known to every shepherd of 
Bethlehem. In popular esteem, it was no other than the 
historic cave of Adullam, in whose capacious recesses 


THE SrORV OF THE MESSIAH. 


127 


David, at once anointed king and hunted outlaw, had 
found refuge. 

Not a moment too soon was its shelter gained ; for 
scarcely had Thoma seated himself beneath the rocky roof, 
when the gorge was filled with a thick, blinding cloud of 
dust — the advance guard of the tempest — whirling 
madly over the top of the cliff. Then came the rain, as it 
were in vertical streamlets, washing the air clear of dust, 
indeed, but filling it with almost opaque masses of falling 
water. Overhead, across the top of the gorge, and down 
its tortuous length, the wind rushed and roared ; sweeping 
at one moment the falling waters onward clear of the gulf ; 
then dashing a deluge of spray against the farther wall, as 
though attacking the works of an enemy ; next carrying 
the rain in devious courses around crags, under impending 
rocks, and far into the very grottos, so that Thoma found 
it necessary to withdraw deeper into his cave-retreat. 
For half an hour the storm raged on with unabated fury, 
cooling the heated rocks, washing the dust from the scanty 
vegetation which, in favoured spots, had managed to sur- 
vive the summer suns, and excavating to yet greater 
depths, with its brief but formidable torrents, the ra’sdnes 
and grorores of the wilderness of Judaea. 

Thoma found himself strangely interested in and 
soothed by the violence of the tempest ; it fell in with his 
mood. When its first force had diminished, he moved out 
to the edge of the rock that he might look up the gorge 
and watch it to better effect. Several times while thus en- 
gaged he caught, as he thought, the sound of a human voice. 
Was any one calling to him through the storm? He 
scanned the rocks across the ravine, but in vain. Surely 
the voice came from overhead ; could it be Asahel with 
the flock? and was he in need of help? The thought 
caused him to spring from the mouth of the cave and 
make his way with all speed along the narrow ledge to the 


128 


EMMANUEL ; 


top of the cliff. There he was not long in finding the 
speaker, the sound of whose voice had reached him below ; 
it was not Asahel ; it was a stranger. 

- The man stood on the summit of a group of rocks with 
face partially averted, gazing away eastward toward the 
Sea of Salt, — visible dimly in spite of the rain. The 
stranger’s form was lean almost to emaciation, but large 
and muscular. His coarse and rather meagre garb in- 
cluded a short, sleeveless tunic of camel’s-hair cloth, a rude 
cloak or tallith of the same rough material, gathered to his 
person by a leathern girdle, and sandals of the coarsest 
description. His head was destitute of any covering what- 
ever, except that of his long black locks, uncut from 
birth, which were tossed by every passing gust of wind. 
Tliese peculiarities of garb and hair, together with the 
dark hue of the man’s face and limbs, bronzed by constant 
exposure beyond those of an Arab, marked him out to the 
son of Salmon as one of those Nazarites occasionally to be 
found in the recesses of the wilderness. 

The stranger’s gaze eastward was so intent that invol- 
untarily Thoma’s eyes turned in the same direction, and 
found in the scene something of the charm which it plainly 
possessed for the Nazarite. For him too, on that day of 
grief, the dark and the sublime in nature had a fascina- 
tion. The heavy clouds were sweeping toward the northeast 
in swift and endless succession, their dripping, curtain- 
like fringes stretching far down toward the earth. Below 
them the heavier gusts of rain could be seen driven by the 
furious wind up the deep hollow of the Dead Sea, and moving 
swiftly over the surface of that strange sheet of water like 
a series of squadrons of horse charging into battle. The 
far wall of the Moab mountains Avas almost black in the 
darkness shrouding it. Gloom, indeed, covered the Avhole 
face of nature to a greater or less degree ; but it was 
broken constantly by flashes of lightning, accompanied by 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


129 


tremendous peals of thunder, — flashes so vivid that by 
means of them the towering mountain-walls and forbidding 
gray crags and cliffs ranged in stern investment round the 
Sea of Salt stood forth from the gloom every few mo- 
ments in spectral and startling distinctness. 

It was doubtless the appearance of might and settled 
purpose in the vast masses of vapour, sweeping so vehe- 
mently and persistently toward some unknown goal, as w'ell 
as the fearful splendour of the lightning, which held the 
two men in rapt attention. Soon the Nazarite once more 
burst forth into speech. Exultingly his voice rose above the 
storm in the words of the Eighteenth Psalm : — 


“ lie bowed the heavens also, and came down ; 

And thick darkness was under Ills feet. 

And He rode upon a cherub, and did fly : 

Yea, He flew swiftly upon the wing^s of the wind. 

He made darkness His hiding place. His pavilion i-ound about Him ; 

Darkness of waters, thick clouds of the skies. 

At the brightness before Him His thick clouds passed, 

Hail-stones and coals of fire. 

The Lord also thundered in the heavens, 

And the Most High uttered His voice ; 

Hail-stones and coals of fire." 

The Nazarite turned to leave his rocky pinnacle, and for 
the first time caught sight of Thoina. It was a large 
and strong face which met the latter’s gaze, — a face with 
lines of sternness in it, and gaunt and bronzed with priva- 
tion and exposure. The beetling brows and piercing eyes, 
the prominent bony nose and large, firmly closed mouth, 
all spoke of a strong and intense nature. 

“ Peace be unto thee, sir,” said Thoma, as the stranger 
drew near ; ‘ ‘ who art thou ? ” 

Without reply the Nazarite strode up to him, and fixed 
his eyes on his face, not a little to Thoma’s discomfort, — 
the latter feeling that those keen eyes read his very soul. 
Then solemnly and sternly from the massive jaws came 


130 


EMMANUEL ; 


the words, “Repent; for the kingdom of heaven is at 
hand.” 

“ Sayest thou so, O Nazarite? Who art thou? Art 
thou that prophet which should come ? ” 

“I am the voice of one crying in the wilderness, Make 
straight the way of the Lord ; ” and abruptly as he had 
approached the Nazarite turned about, and went off toward 
the Salt Sea. 

Thoma would have followed, but a certain awe of the 
mysterious stranger restrained him. 

It was nearly two hours afterward, and night was al- 
ready falling, when the young man, weary, and faint from 
Lick of food, reached the sheepfold on the hill-side oppo- 
site Bethlehem. At the sound of his footsteps, Asahel 
sprang up from his recumbent posture at the entrance, and 
peered anxiously in the direction of the sound ; then seeing 
that the new-comer was man, not beast, he raised his woe- 
ful, despairing cry, “ Unclean, unclean ! ” 

“Peace, peace be unto thee my brother ! ” cried Thoma 
hastily, “it is I, thy Judah.” 

Asahel welcomed him gladly. The hours of communion 
with his brother at night, when darkness covered the hate- 
ful marks of his disease and seemed for the time to oblit- 
erate the barrier between them, were now the one solace of 
the leper’s weary life. 

“ My brother,” he inquired of Thoma when the two 
were seated, “ how fareth the old man, our father? Hath 
he mended aught to-day ? ” 

“ Alas, Asahel! thou wilt look upon his face no more. 
Salmon sleepeth with his fathers. But this day morn we 
laid him in the tomb.” 

“ O my brother ! sayest thou so? Alas, my father, my 
father I ” and the stricken man wept aloud. 

“ My brother,” said Thoma gloomily when the first 
outburst of Asahel’s grief was over, “is it not better so? 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


131 


Should not Salmon Ben-Eliab sleep in death rather than 
live only to suffer and sorrow, to be a prey to injustice 
and oppression? Why should he remain in the land of 
the living? The inheritance of his fathers is gone.” 

“ Yea, Judah, thou speakest truly. But I would I had 
seen him once more, and received his blessing. But per- 
haps,” he added despondently, “ he had no blessing for a 
leper.” 

“He sent thee his blessing, my Asahel,” Thoma said 
gently, whereupon the tender words sent by the dying man 
for the comfort of his afflicted son were repeated. 

A silence followed, the thoughts of the leper busying 
themselves with the fall of his house and the wrongs heaped 
upon his deceased parent ; those of Thoma — who, weary 
in mind and body, looked up into the sky, and watched the 
clouds break up and pass away — with the many hours he 
had spent on that very hill-side, occupied as at present, 
— hours that were to be repeated no more. 

“ Judah,” said Asahel after a time, “ sawest thou ever 
a Nazarite in the wilderness behind us?” 

“ Of a truth I have, but this very day.” 

“And said he aught to thee?” 

“He bade me repent, declaring that the kingdom of 
heaven is at hand.” 

“ ’Tis the same, the same ! I have met him now these 
many times, and always he addresseth me thus. Told he 
thee his name ? ” 

“ Nay ; he said only, ‘ I am the voice of one crying in 
the wilderness, Make straight the way of the Lord ; ’ and 
while I marvelled at his answer, straightway he turned 
about and departed.” 

A pause ; then Asahel again, in a lowered tone, “ Judah, 
thinkest thou the Nazarite can be the Christ?” 

“ He ! ” exclaimed the other, “ he the Christ ! Surely not, 
my brother. Thinkest thou the leaders at Jerusalem would 
follow a wild Nazarite like him?” 


132 


EMMANUEL ; 


“ I know not, and I care not,” returned the leper in- 
tensely and bitterly. “ No man preferred by the leaders 
at Jerusalem will ever deliver Israel. What live they for? 
For the service of the Lord and the good of His people? 
Nay, but for gain and for power. They betray their coun- 
try for their own ^advancement, and for money trample poor 
Israelites under foot. Judah, the first work of the Messiah 
will be the overthrow of these.” 

Thoma listened with surprise ; his brother’s thought had 
run in similar channels with, but as usual had outrun, his 
own. 

“ I fear it is even so, Asahel,” he said ; “ but thinkest 
thou this Nazarite will be able to command the allegiance 
of the people, and rally them against the Romans, in the 
face of the Sanhedrin’s opposition?” 

“ I know not, I know not ; but one thing I know : the day 
of Israel’s deliverance will not dawn until the people obey 
his mandate, and repent, from the highest to the lowest. 
Would to God that my eyes might behold the Lord’s Mes- 
siah. And yet, brother, at times I wonder that I care 
aught about him ; for what can he do for me ? What is 
even the Christ to him whom God hath cursed ? ” 

“ Asahel,” said Thoma gently, seeking to turn the lat- 
ter’s thoughts into another channel, “ there was a day when 
we believed we had seen the Messiah, and prided ourselves 
that he lived under our own roof.” 

“ Yea, Judah, how sure we felt that the little babe was 
indeed he ! But,” sadly, “ that was long ago.” 

“True; but thou hast not forgotten how I met him 
afterward in the Temple. That, too, was long ago. Nev- 
ertheless, I have not yet lost hope that he is the Promised 
One.” 

“ Why doth he then delay the day of his manifesta- 
tion? ” 

This query, often propounded, never answered satisfac- 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


133 


torily, closed their speculations on this evening, as on so 
many former occasions. Yet it was with thoughts of that 
wondrous night when heaven had been opened to his boy- 
ish gaze, and celestial harmonies had greeted his ears, that 
Thoma passed the hours of his last vigil on the familiar 
hill-side, so dear to him from many associations. 

At break of day, Asahel led the few sheep northward 
past the Holy City, while Thoma returned to his family 
to prepare for removal to their new abode. The prepara- 
tions were not extensive. It was not a work of much time 
to load the pair of bullocks and the one cow which he had 
succeeded in saving in the wreck of his father’s estate 
with the mats and mattresses, the small, low table, such 
water-pots as were worth moving, and the few other arti- 
cles of an Oriental peasant’s home. 

Elisabeth rode upon an ass, loaned by a friendly neigh- 
bour, and held in her arms the youngest of Thoma’s chil- 
dren, Tamar and the others walking the entire two days’ 
journey. There was now no property left to the family 
except the small inheritance of the daughter of Jesse. 
This lay, not in Bethlehem, — an older sister having received 
the part of her father’s property located there, — but in the 
little town of Ephraim, situated some sixteen miles north 
of Jerusalem, and not far from ancient Bethel. It was a 
small inheritance, truly. In the days of their prosperity it 
had been almost overlooked, so trifling was the revenue 
received from it. To it Thoma and his family, with sad 
hearts, weary steps, and many forebodings, now betook 
themselves. Ephraim they found to be a little isolated 
mountain town, perched, like many of its neighbours, on a 
hill-top, and commanding a wide prospect, especially east- 
ward, toward the mountains of Gilead and Moab, and up 
and down the Jordan valley, including the bright and blue 
surface of the Sea of Salt. 

Arrived in its streets, it required little inquiry to bring 


134 


EMMANUEL ; . 


them to the poor, one-roomed dwelling and the parcel of 
ground belonging to the family of Jesse Ben-Jonadab. 
Alas ! desolation seemed to reign in their new home. The 
house was “out of repair, the land uncared for, the terraces 
broken down, and the vines untrimmed ; while the few 
olive and fig trees were suffering from neglect and lack 
of water. Elisabeth could control her feelings no longer. 
Seating herself on the earthen fioor, unmindful of the 
curious towns-people standing by, she covered her head 
with her mitpachath, and lifted up her voice and wept. 
Thoma looked around in gloomy silence. Tamar only, to 
whose darkened vision there had come no change of out- 
look, sat calm and peaceful, quieting the vague fears of 
her children, which the lamentation of Elisabeth had ex- 
cited. 

“ Judah,” she said presently, going to Thoma’s side, “ is 
it so very bad ? Can we not live here, my husband ? ” 

The latter looked into the fair face of his wife, and for 
once was content that the eyes he loved were veiled. She, 
at least, would never know the full extent of the wrons 
which had been done them. 

“ My Tamar,” he replied evasively, “it is not so good 
as Bethlehem, but doubtless we can live here.” 

“ Then, Judah, shall we not be reconciled to 'what the 
Most High hath allotted us ? Shall we not labour to make 
a home here for our children ? ” 

The man gained strength from the sweet, trustful face 
pressed against his arm, and resolved that he would make 
even the wilderness to blossom for her sake and their chil- 
dren’s. 

Little opportunity did he find, for some time, to brood 
over his misfortunes. The vintage was at hand, and the 
vines proved more productive than might have been ex- 
pected from their wild and tangled state. The labour 
connected with plucking the grapes and caring for the 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


135 


vines, repairing the house, rebuilding the terraces, and 
grubbing up the thorns and brambles, together with that 
of ploughing and seeding 'his small part of the grain- field, 
and afterward gathering his figs and olives, engrossed all 
of his time and most of his thoughts for months after his 
arrival. Indeed, it was nearly a year before he was freed 
from the pressure of continuous labour. 

lYhen at the close of the following summer he had time 
to think over his fortunes at leisure, he found himself in 
quite a different frame of mind from that of the autumn 
preceding. His new home was of more value than he at 
first believed ; and surely God had blessed him in many 
ways. Never had the flock increased so rapidly, nor fared 
so well. The season had been a good one, and his small 
portion of land had yielded beyond his expectations. More- 
over, Asahel no longer felt compelled to hide himself in the 
wilderness ; but leaving the sheep in charge of Thoma’s 
oldest son, Salmon, — a lad like his mother in countenance, 
but strongly resembling his grandfather in figure, activity, 
and quick intelligence, — the afflicted man would often 
come to assist his brother in the labour of the field, the or- 
chard, and the vineyard. Asahel had grown accustomed 
to his fearful malady ; and none of the towns-people hav- 
ing known him in daj’S of health and happiness, he 
determined to shun them not when he could aid in the 
work of the family, except so far as the law required. 

Thoma’s misfortunes, however, though now happily in 
the past, left him a troublesome legacy. They had led 
him to grapple with certain life-problems, and despite the 
apparent hopelessness of any satisfactory solution, these 
problems continued to haunt his mind, prompting questions 
that were like a fountain of bitter waters within him. Why 
was the infamous reformer who betrayed his noble father 
and shattered his life permitted to live to a ripe old age 
in peace and prosperity, while Salmon slept in a premature 


136 


EMMANUEL ; 


grave in one of the grottos of beloved Bethlehem? Why, 
too, did God allow that hypocritical Pharisee, Simon, to 
rob the unfortunate with impunity, and to live in luxury 
and the enjoyment of health, while Asahel, true and upright 
soul, was doomed to a living death and the lot of an out- 
cast? And why was Tamar, fairest and best of women, 
condemned to a life of perpetual darkness, denied a glimpse 
of the faces of her own children? It was without avail 
that he told himself that such questions were too diflicult 
for an unlearned man, and sought to dismiss them from 
his mind, and forget them in arduous and continuous toil. 
They only returned a little later with the same force and 
insistence. 


THE STOllY OF THE MESSIAH. 


137 


CHAPTER IX. 

TITE HERALD OF THE KINGDOM.^ 

"WTiat went ye out into the wilderness to behold? A reed shaken with the wind? 
But what went ye out to see? A man clothed in soft raiment? Behold, they 
that are gorgeously apparelled, and live delicately, are in kings’ courts. 

But what went ye out to see? A prophet? Yea, 1 say unto you, and much 
more than a prophet. 

Luke vii. 24-26. 

I N the latter part of January, A.D. 27, there was a 
break in the succession of winter storms sweeping 
up from the Great Sea ; for a time a truce seemed 
declared in the war of the elements, and the earth was 
again bathed in genial sunshine. Nature was enjoying 
and improving the truce by putting a yet greener touch 
to the flourishing pastures and fields of waving grain ; 
while the first delicate flowerets of the season, appearing 
in sheltered spots, and the masses of pink bloom on the 
almond* tree, — called by the Rabbis the waker, — were so 
many lovely signals that the Lord of earth was about to 
bless mankind by the return of spring. 

Thoma, son of Salmon, took advantage of the fair skies 
and balmy airs to go over to the Roman town of Gophna, 
residence of the Toparch of that region, and some six or 
seven miles west of Ephraim, to sell his winter figs. He 
stood at the fortified gate, bargaining with the centurion 
in command of the city guard, when suddenly the clatter 
of iron-shod hoofs on the paved roadway interrupted the 
negotiations, and turned his customer’s attention to a 
party of horsemen riding up briskly from the south. The 
leader of the new-comers — from his style of dress, hand- 
some, intelligent face, and quick movements plainly a 


1 Matt.iii. 1-17. 


138 


EMMANUEL ; 


Greek — accosted the centurion in that musical Hellenic 
tongue which the great Alexander had carried throughout 
the Eastern w^orld. 

“Hail, Sergius, beloved of the gods! How farest 
thou? and how is it with our friend the Toparch?” 

“ Ah, my good Lysias, is it thou?’’ replied the Roman 
in the same tongue. “ The Toparch is well ; hast thou 
business with him?” 

“Nay, friend Sergius, not so; I seek our lord Pilate 
himself, and I hear he is now at Antipatris. I have a 
present for him.” 

“ From thyself, or from another, Lysias? ” 

“ From myself ; and a present such as, I could swear by 
Olympus, he hath not received before. Heardest thou 
ever, Sergius, of the golden apples of Hesperides?” 

“ I have ; the apples which that good fighter, Hercules, 
stole from the garden of the daughters of Atlas.” 

“ The same. Be it known unto thee that the gods, in 
reward of my conspicuous piety, have finally awarded 
them to me ; and I, out of love for our governor, am 
bearing them to his fordly presence, that I may give them 
to him.” 

The Roman broke into a laugh. 

“Thy conspicuous piety, indeed! were there even a 
senile, decrepit divinity left on Mount Olympus, thou 
wouldest rue thy jest. And thy love for the new governor ! 
Certainly, Lysias, thou art a true and guileless friend. 
Never a thought, I warrant me, hath entered thy honest 
breast that our lord Pilate may make thee some small 
recompense of thy affection.” 

The Greek received the banter with good-nature, and 
joined in the laugh. It was no secret that he had grown 
rich through the favour — the purchased favour — of 
Pilate’s predecessor, Gratus. 

“ But, I pray thee, Lysias,” continued the Roman, “ ex- 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


139 


plain thy riddle. No doubt the gods have awarded thee the 
golden apples ; but how came they down? Did the doughty 
Hercules bring them in person ? Perchance he loveth thee 
as thou lovest the Procurator. I pray thee, show them to 
me.” 

“ Look,” said the Greek, raising the cover of one of the 
panniers on the pack-mule at his side. 

The basket was full of fine, ripe oranges, a fruit unknown 
to the Graeco-Roman world. The centurion looked at them 
in astonishment, his friend eyeing him meanwhile tri- 
umphantly. 

“ Thou knowest, Sergius, how I bought from Gratus part 
of the grounds of Herod’s palace at Jericho.” 

“ Yea, I remember; thou boughtest it, and boughtest it 
cheap.” 

“ Possibly,” responded the Greek with a smile ; “ at any 
rate it so happened that there were trees there, sprung from 
seed brought by Herod from the far East, which had been 
nearly destroyed at the old king’s death, and had then been 
neglected for years. These I had my gardener care for to 
see what they would produce. At first they bore a small, 
poor apple of a greenish color ; but the fruit improved 
steadily with culture. Last spring some of the apples were 
sent to me, and, by Bacchus, my Sergius, they were fit for 
Juno herself! This year they are finer than ever; what 
thinkest thou? ” closing the pannier, “ will the Procurator 
reject them ? ” 

“Nay, he will not doubt thy love, my good Lysias ; but 
stay ! ” the Greek merchant starting forward, “ what news 
bringest thou from Jerusalem?” 

“Ah! there is a piece of news; the Jews have a new 
prophet. Little enough hath happened in the city since 
that wild beast of a population made its clamour over the 
golden shields on the governor’s palace ; but off in the 
wilderness toward the Sea of Salt a wild sort of a fellow 


140 


EMMANUEL ; 


hath been preaching for some weeks past, and now behold 
all the Hebrews within the city walls are agog over the 
report that he is a prophet.” 

“ A new prophet ! ” exclaimed the centurion ; “ another 
Judah the Zealot?” 

“ Indeed, I cannot tell thee,” was the indifferent reply ; 
“ it is likely enough. It takes little to stir up these vile 
Hebrew dogs.” 

“ Perchance he is only one of those strange folk, the 
Essenes, who have a community somewhere in that wilder- 
ness.” 

“ Nay, I believe not. His food is said to be locusts and 
wild honey ; and thou knowest no Essene may eat animal 
food. Neither doth he hold himself aloof from contact with 
men. The fellow is some Nazarite fanatic, I judge ; some 
country priest whose brain hath been crazed by dwelling 
with the wild beasts in that natural furnace, the Salt Sea 
basin.” 

“What is the man’s appearance ? Hast thou seen him, 
Lysias ? ” 

“ Not I ; am I a dog of a Jew? Report hath it that he 
is a large, stcin-looking man, with head uncovered, hair 
wildly flying and long as a woman’s, and rude garments of 
camel’s hair. The first rumour of him, brought by travellers 
from Jericho, attracted little attention ; but when a num- 
ber of the most crack-brained zealots went down and 
brought back a full account, the city was stirred mightily. 
Sergius, thou and thy superiors will have trouble with these 
Hebrews yet; what thinkest thou is the fellow’s message? 
‘ Repent ye ; for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.’ ” 

“ Ha ! a kingdom ! Let him beware ! When he setteth 
it up, w^e shall shortly enough spoil both his kingdom and 
his prophecy for him.” 

With a laugh and an exclamation of assent, the Greek 
passed on through the vaulted gateway and disappeared. 


THE STOUT OF THE MESSIAH. 


141 


Thoma, whose knowledge of Greek was far from groat, 
listened to this conversation at first with indifference, then 
with intensest interest. Though his anger flamed and his 
brows darkened at the contemptuous references to his 
people, yet the news brought by the Greek was so excit- 
ing, so all-absorbing, that the moment he left the city for 
home he forgot all else in thinking it over. A new prophet ! 
Verily Israel needed a prophet. Could this be the great 
prophet promised in the days of Moses, in whose mouth 
should be the word of God ? In this Nazarite’s mouth there 
was a thrilling message certainly, — ‘ ‘ The kingdom of 
heaven is at hand.” But that was the cry of the Nazarite 
encountered by him in the wilderness beyond Bethlehem. 
Yea, doubtless this was the same man. 

There was but one mind in Thoma’s household that 
night ; if a new propliet had come to Israel, the head of 
the house must go to hear him. So it happened that at 
noon the next day Thoma entered the north gate of Jeru- 
salem, and made his way rapidly down the Tyropmon 
toward the market-place, intending there to make inquiries 
of newly arrived merchants from Jericho. Such a course 
he soon found to be needless ; scarcely was a group of two 
or three to be found in all the busy street without some- 
thing to say about the preacher in the wilderness. Thoma’s 
first inquiry was answered very promptly. 

“ Art thou also come in to learn of him? Yea, he preach- 
eth and baptizeth up the Jordan at the Bethany ford ; and, 
behold, this very day, from the gate by the sheep market, 
a caravan goeth down to visit him.” 

The son of Salmon lost no time in betaking himself to 
the sheep market and joining the caravan gathering there. 
This soon grew to extensive proportions. When, after much 
delay, it finally issued from the gate, passed down into 
the valley and over the orchard-covered Mount of Olives, 
wound through Bethany, and off to the north-east to the 


142 


EMMANUEL ; 


gorge by wliicli the road descends to the Jordan, it was a 
tumultuous and excited company in which the grave young 
countryman from Ephraim found himself. The multitude 
was too great for the narrow road, and, to their great dis- 
comfort, the people were wedged together so closely as to 
make individual movement exceedingly difficult. Parents 
were calling for their children, and children crying for their 
parents ; ass and camel drivers were striving to force their 
beasts through the moving mass toward the front, while 
foot travellers were resisting their passage, the men by 
force and frequent imprecations, the women by screams of 
terror ; and great was the consequent din and confusion. 

When the narrow rocky defile just above Jericho was 
reached, the turmoil and crowding became worse than ever, 
and the danger increased tenfold ; for there the roadway 
was not only narrow, but bordered on one side by a fear- 
ful precipice, at the foot of which, at that season, a brawl- 
ing torrent held full sway. Nevertheless, the gorge was 
descended without serious accident, and at nightfall the 
people encamped at the celebrated fountain of Elisha near 
Jericho, and not far from the palace of the banished tyrant, 
Archelaus. The gardens and palm groves belonging to 
the palace were at this time bright with all the beauty of 
advancing spring, and, with the warm zephyrs of the 
valley, formed a grateful contrast with the generally leaf- 
less trees and chill airs of the more laggard season of the 
uplands ; a difference caused by the great depression of 
the Jericho basin — over a thousand feet below the Mediter- 
ranean. 

Early the next morning the multitude was again moving, 
this time up the valley of the Jordan, which, the moment 
the fructifying waters of Jericho were left behind, began 
to show signs of the coming aridity. Already the scant 
vegetation was beginning to suffer from heat and drouth ; 
soon the narrow plains on either side of the river would 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


143 


become a parched desolation, and only a slender fringe of 
bottom-land down at the river banks, hemmed in by repul- 
sive cliffs of drab and yellow mud, would preserve a ver- 
dant hue. On this bottom-land, and not far from the 
Bethany ford, after the thickets along the stream had been 
explored to make sure that none of the wild animals mak- 
ing their lairs therein were still lingering in secret recesses, 
a camping-spot was selected where stately sycamores and 
oaks would shield the pilgrims from the semi-tropical sun- 
shine of the strange valley. Then the people streamed 
forward, and joined the crowds around the now famous 
wilderness prophet. In a wide open space, stretching away 
to the desolate mud cliffs already mentioned, where the 
river, swollen to some extent with the winter rains, had 
spread a little over its bank, a man — an uninstructed, 
unrecognized, Nazarite priest — was preaching with a 
power unknown in Israel since the days of Elijah, and 
baptizing the countless penitents who, from “Jerusalem, 
andallJudaea, and all the region round about Jordan,” had 
come out to hear him. 

On getting within sight of the preacher, — a matter of no 
little difficulty, — Thoma saw at a glance that his surmise 
was correct ; it was the Nazarite of the wilderness of 
Tekoa. The stranger’s large, sinewy form and gaunt and 
bronzed features, his piercing black eyes, shaded by 
heavy, beetling brows, his stern bearing and trumpet-like 
voice, were unchanged, except in so far as they had become 
more pronounced and intense in character. Not in the 
least had the preacher changed his desert garb to conform 
to the dress of his listeners ; camel’s-hair cloth, leathern 
girdle,. and the rudest of sandals still made up the whole 
of his attire, while, as before, his long waving hair formed 
the only protection of his head. Presently the remark of 
a bystander answered the question uppermost in Thoma’s 
mind. 


144 


EMMANUEL ; 


“ lie is John, son of Zachariah, an unlearned priest of 
the hill-country south of Jerusalem ; moreover, he hath 
frequented the deserts from his earliest days. Beyond this 
knoweth no man, here or in the Holy City.” 

The peasant from Ephraim had scarcely become inter- 
ested in the earnest discourse of the Nazarite before his 
attention was unpleasantly diverted. A part of the cara- 
van with which he had travelled — a part esteeming itself 
entitled to the foremost place by right of superior -wisdom 
and sanctity — was pushing its way to the front with small 
regard for the rights of prior comers. He was soon aware, 
by the commotion about him, and by the arrogant bearing 
and the peculiarities and extreme nicety of attire of those 
causing it, that he wms nearer than suited his critical frame 
of mind to a group of Pharisees and priestly Sadducees, 
— a self-constituted tribunal come down to pass judgment 
on the now famous preacher and reputed prophet. In- 
stinctively Thoma turned to see what would be their re- 
ception by the Baptist. Would he, like the people, ])e 
impressed by their wealth and dignity, and do them hom- 
age ? Before them, would he lower in any degree the liigh 
and fearless tone of his preaching? His queries were 
quickly answered. John’s gaze was already fixed on the 
new-comers, liis eyes burning like coals under the shaggy 
brows, his face sterner than ever in expression. He ceased 
speaking, the people watching him the while at once with 
interest and with wonder. Suddenly the visibly gathering 
storm broke, and swept like a tempest over the vast con- 
course, the Baptist’s first utterance awaking in Thoma’s 
mind a strange echo of the snort of defiance of the Roman 
cavalry chargers on the imperial road through Gophna. 

“ O offspring of vipers ! ” he burst forth, “ wh'o wmrned 
you to flee from the wrath to come? Bring forth there- 
fore fruits worthy of repentance: and think not to say 
within yourselves, We have Abraham to our father: for 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


145 


I say unto you, that God is able of these stones to raise 
up children unto Abraham. And even now the axe lieth at 
the root of the trees : every tree therefore that bringeth 
not forth good fruit is hewn down, and cast into the fire.” 

The stern, searching arraignment and proclamation pro- 
ceeded till even the dullest minds and the hardest hearts 
present recognized and trembled before the old, but per- 
sistently ignored and forgotten, truth, that any religious 
belief, however confidently held, and any religious system, 
however venerable, which fails to demonstrate its divine 
sanction by producing rectitude of life is worthless for 
justification before the Most High. 

But the self-important visitors did not wait for more of 
such preaching. Perceiving that the people were no longer 
at their command, but under the influence of a stronger 
mind than theirs, they withdrew with no little haste and 
chagrin, filled with wrath, deep, malignant, and undying. 
As the parched pastures of Judaea drink in the first pouring 
rains of autumn, so Thoma drank in the vehement elo- 
quence of the Baptist, listening, as it were, with every 
faculty. Often, in his sombre musings, had he groped 
toward these truths ; but here was a man, speaking as with 
the authority of God, who made them stand out in all their 
grand proportions in the broad light of day, and who, with 
lips cleansed, as it seemed, by a coal from the altar of the 
Lord, was able to voice the righteous indignation of every 
true Israelite at the prevalence of iniquity in high places. 
From that hour Thoma’s soul was like a harp in the hands 
of a skilled performer; under the touch of the Baptist 
new chords were struck, and unsuspected harmonies pro- 
duced. 

The man manifestly superior to the ordinary needs and 
ambitions of others possesses a strange interest for them ; 
and if to his independence of position he add the fearless 
proclamation of truth to which the human conscience bears 


146 


EMMANUEL ; 


witness, his power over men, for a time at least, may be 
almost boundless. The mass of the people about John 
were startled and, indeed, shocked at the scathing rebuke 
administered to the leaders and teachers of Israel ; never- 
theless, the power of the prophet mastered them. Convic- 
tion of sin entered their hearts, if it did not those of the 
Pharisees ; and, with apprehension evident in look and 
voice, members of different classes began to ask of the 
preacher more explicit instructions for the direction of their 
lives. John’s stern features relaxed to an expression of 
kindliness which was almost gentleness as to each penitent 
question he gave a ready and appropriate reply. Men in 
comfortable circumstances were told to share food and rai- 
ment with those who lacked ; certain soldiers casually 
passing on a minor campaign were commanded to extort 
from no man by violence, to accuse no man wrongfully, 
and to be content with their wages ; and even the publi- 
cans, at whose presence the brow of Thoma darkened, — ■ 
miserable cormorants gorging themselves on the very vitals 
of their fellow-countrymen, — even they, to his astonish- 
ment, were kindly received by the stern preacher, and sim- 
ply bidden to collect no more than was appointed them. 

At the close, the penitent throngs pressed to the water’s 
brink, and entering its shallows were baptized by the 
preacher, confessing their sins and promising amendment 
of life. For hours the scene continued with little change. 
The rite was administered to hundreds, and still the appli- 
cants were many when the inclination of the sun toward 
the yellow cliffs westward, and the approach of evening, 
sent the pilgrims to their booths. The last to leave were 
those who had just received baptism, many of whom re- 
mained standing on the bank with hands and faces uplifted 
in prayer. One of these, a man whose clothes were yet 
dripping with the water poured upon him, particularly at- 
tracted Thoma’s attention, alike from the devoutness of his 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


147 


attitude and expression, and his noble and even beautiful 
cast of countenance. He was a young man some twelve or 
fifteen years Thoma’s junior, of medium stature, and of 
strong and apparently active frame. Though evidently, 
from the prescribed tassel at the corners of his tallith, a 
son of Abraham, he was dressed in garments of handsomer 
material and purer white than those of the common 
people. Scarlet and purple embroidery, and a girdle of 
blue imported goods, likewise marked him out as belong- 
ing to the richer class. Soon, his devotions coming to an 
end, his eyes met those of Thoma. 

“ Hail, sir,” he said in a friendly tone, “ art thou also 
baptized by the prophet? ” 

“ Nay, friend ; I wait for the morrow.” 

“ This is a great day for Israel” — 

“ I tell thee, Nakdimon,” an overbearing voice in a 
passing group broke in, “ the fellow is beside himself. 
Bah ! he hath a demon.” 

Thoma’s eyes followed the group, whose somewhat 
stormy colloquy had interrupted his new acquaintance, 
with a look of hatred ; for the speaker was Simon, the 
Pharisee, the oppressor of his house. The stranger by his 
side watched the retiring Pharisees with a different ex- 
pression ; his eyes sparkled, and his face shone. 

“ ‘Behold, he cometh, saith the Lord of Hosts,”’ the 
young man began in a low, but exultant, tone. “ ‘ But 
who may abide the day of his coming? and who shall 
stand when he appeareth? for he is like a refiner’s fire and 
like fuller’s soap.’ ” 

It was now Thoma’s turn to make inquiry. 

“ Thinkest thou, then,” he asked, “ that the Nazarite is 
the Messiah ? ” 

“Yea, verily; is he not, indeed? Who like him hath 
been seen in Israel since the days of Elijah? Who so 
fitted to turn the people to repentance and purify the sons 
of Levi? ” 


148 


EMMANUEL ; 


“ Thou sayest he is a great prophet,” Thoma returned ; 
“ but the Messiah is to be King of Israel. Will this wil- 
derness prophet lay aside his hairy cloak for the royal 
robes of the Messiah? ” ^ 

‘‘Not yet, friend, not yet; first must he turn the 
people to God. When Israel shall have come back to ways 
of righteousness, then, under his leadership, we shall be 
invincible ; the land shall be purged of the heathen, and 
the Messiah shall reign in glory.” 

Thoma looked at the enthusiastic young face, turned 
toward the glowing western sky, and admired its fine out- 
lines, but did not catch its fire. Much as John attracted 
him, he could not believe him to be the Christ. 

“ Sir,” he said presently, “ thou comest from Galilee, I 
judge by thy speech ; what is thy name and thy city? ” 

“ I am John, son of Zebedee, of Bethsaida of Galilee. 
And thou, friend?” 

“ They call me Thoma ; my father was Salmon Ben- 
Eliab. I live in Ephraim, in the hill-country of Judaea, 
on the border of the wilderness. But, friend, why usest 
thou the speech of the uncircumcised? is not thy true 
name Jochanan Bar-Zabdai?” 

“ Thou sayest truly,” was the quick reply. “ Verily, we 
chose not the Greek form for ourselves ; but our trade — 
we are fishers — bringeth us much into contact with the 
heathen. Moreover, thou knowest the Greek tongue is 
heard more often in Galilee than in thy Judaea. For 
many years now our towns-people have called me John, 
my brother James, and my father Zebedee.” 

That evening, under his rude shelter of boughs, Thoma 
reviewed the events and the teaching of the day. “ Re- 
pent ye ; for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.” Surely, 
if ever a nation needed to repent, it was Israel, the Lord’s 
chosen people. The teaching of the Rabbis was little 
like that of the Baptist, certainly ; but in this it was to 


TUE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


149 


the same effect ; for they, too, had taught that it was the 
transgression and impenitence of Israel that delayed the 
appearing of the Promised One. All too certain was it 
that, from the High Priest to the day-labourer, sin pre- 
vailed to a fearful extent throughout the nation. When 
the chief priests used their offices as means by which to 
live in luxury and vice, and daily gi^w more rapacious 
and insolent in their dealings with the people ; when those 
specially noted for piety were cankered with hypocrisy 
and ruthless greed ; when the common people in town and 
country were filled with selfishness, vindictiveness, and 
often with unspeakable uncleanness, — surely it was time the 
call to repentance was rung through the land, from Hermon 
to the desert, from the river to the sea. Nor was it with 
general considerations of national wrong-doing only, but 
with a wholesome feeling of sorrow for his own transgres- 
sions, and a resolve to confess them and be baptized on the 
morrow, that at length the son of Salmon closed his eyes 
and slept. 

The morning saw the scenes of the previous day re- 
peated in great part. Again the penitents came forward, 
Thoma one of the number, and entered the water with the 
prophet-preacher. The baptisms over, while many were 
engaged in prayer, and the multitude debating in their 
hearts whether or not the Messiah were really come, John 
stood up again on an elevated spot and addressed the 
great congregation. 

“ I indeed,” he said, “ baptize you with water unto re- 
pentance : but he that cometh after me is mightier than I, 
whose shoes I am not worthy to bear : he shall baptize 
you with the Holy Spirit and with fire : whose fan is in 
his hand, and he will thoroughly cleanse his threshing- 
floor ; and he will gather his wheat into the garner, but 
the chaff he will burn up with unquenchable fire. Ye 
ask who I am : I am the voice of one crying in the wil- 


150 


EMMANUEL ; 


derness, Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make his paths 
straight.” 

The preacher then went on to describe in few, but bold, 
outlines how, in men’s hearts and lives, every valley must 
be filled, and every mountain and hill brought low, before 
the coming of that greater One to follow, so that all flesh 
might see the salvation of God. 

Suddenly there was a pause ; the preacher was looking 
fixedly at some point in the throng. Taking advantage 
of this break, a new applicant presented himself for bap- 
tism. John, however, made no movement toward com- 
pliance. Thoma’s wonder was excited. Why did the 
Baptist gaze at the man in that uncertain, puzzled way, 
all his lofty bearing and stern expression gone from him 
in a moment? Naturally he and others pressed forward 
to catch a glimpse of the penitent whose appearance on 
the scene apparently had worked such a transformation. 
Could it be one of the nobles of the court of Antipas ? or 
possibly the Tetrarch himself? Not at all ; it was only a 
plainly dressed young man of some thirty years, destitute 
entirely of chain of gold, silken robe, or other badge, to 
mark him out as one of the great men of the earth. Then 
why this change in the prophet-preacher? Even while 
the question was in his mind^ however, Thoma, whose re- 
cent baptism had left him in a state of spiritual exaltation, 
found himself also strangely interested as he gazed into 
the candidate’s face. Surely he had seen that counte- 
nance before ; but where ? And what a fascination there 
was in it ! 

My reader, that face has been one of the sweet and 
sacred mysteries of the world from that day to this. Its 
image has risen perpetually, with no little indistinctness it 
is true, but, nevertheless, with surpassing attractiveness 
and power in the minds, and appeared in the lives, of the 
noblest men and women earth has seen. Let us, also, in 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


151 


imagination, turn our eyes upon it. The countenance which 
held the wondering regard of the Baptist that day was 
hardly one to attract the special attention of the throng. 
Fair certainly it was ; its manly beauty of a character to 
compel recognition when attention was drawn to it. Yet 
even so, the multitude would have looked on it as in no 
respect superior to the faces of a hundred others in the 
crowds about the Baptist. The type of countenance was 
Jewish, yet not unmistakably so. Indeed, it needed a 
glance at his clothing, particularly at the tassels of his tal- 
lith, to determine beyond question that the stranger was a 
son of Abraham, an orthodox Hebrew. A Greek artist, if 
he had scanned those features, while admitting their at- 
tractiveness, would probably have pointed out the slight 
tendency to sadness in their expression ; and he would have 
remarked that the face, though not entirely destitute of the 
bloom of youth, was still too deficient in colouring. 

Thus much a discriminating Gentile might have observed ; 
but far more than this was seen by John, Thoma, and a 
few others. Yet it was only after many years, and when 
life was drawing to a close ; only after that face had been 
before his eyes for several summers and winters, and then 
for many long years had gone with him in spirit through 
weary journeyings amidst the blistering heat of Persian 
sands, and under the wondrous evening skies of Parthian 
mountains ; only after the memory of it had become en- 
shrined in the most sacred recesses of his heart, — that 
Thoma, son of Salmon, was able to express even imperfectly 
what he dimly saw in that young man who came for baptism 
in the Jordan. 

In those after-days there chanced to come to him a stray 
copy of the first letter to the Corinthians of Paul of Tar- 
sus, and in the pages of this he found written, “ The first 
man Adam became a living soul ; the last Adam a life-giv- 
ing spirit ; ” whereupon he closed the roll, and gave himself 


152 


EMMANUEL ; 


up to his precious and long-cherished memories. Yea, he 
said to himself, in this the Man of Nazareth differed from 
the rest of mankind. They, whether great or small, are 
but living souls dwelling in certain bodies, fair or other- 
wise, over which their control is limited, — bodies which fail 
to represent at all adequately the character and thought of 
the soul. But this one man was different ; he was “ a life- 
giving spirit.” His body was absolutely subject to his 
mind, its supple instrument, its material expression. And 
since the spirit dominating his body and shining in his face 
was of incomparable power and beauty, therefore was it 
that those who knew him, those who had “eyes to see,” 
dwelt upon that face and form with a fascination that soon 
became delight, — a delight ever deepening until it became 
the fullest loyalty and love. This was completely so, it is 
true, only after the crisis in his career, the consummation 
of his life ; but from the first, there was a suggestion and 
a promise in the face of this man which drew certain 
thoughtful and earnest minds to him with a power which 
they were long at loss to understand. 

In response to the usual inquiry from the Baptist, the 
new-comer said simply, “ I am Jesus of Nazareth, by trade 
a carpenter.” 

Still John hesitated. 

“ 1 have need,” he said in a low tone, “ to be baptized of 
thee, and comest thou to me? ” 

“ Suffer it now,” was the quietly authoritative response, 
“ for thus it becometh us to fulfil all righteousness.” 

Forthwith the preacher, with unwonted lowliness of de- 
meanour, proceeded to the river, and out into its shallows, 
Jesus of Nazareth following. Then, while the latter stood 
with bowed head, the Nazarite poured the water over him, 
pronouncing the usual baptismal formula so far as that 
related to God and the coming kingdom of heaven, but 
with the noticeable omission of all reference to repentance 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


153 


and the remission of sins. Thus was Jesus, in the divinely 
ordered "way, and, with the exception of repentance and 
confession, in the same way with other men, set apart for 
the kingdom of God. 

Soon the rite was over. Jesus was standing on the bank 
engaged in prayer, and the people were turning their atten- 
tion elsewhere, when, without any warning whatever, there 
was a blinding flash of light, and a sound as of a mighty 
voice ' overhead. Great w'as the consternation for the 
moment : some hastened to their booths, saying that it 
thundered and that a winter tempest was upon them ; 
others, of cooler temperament, seeing that the blue heavens 
were cloudless from rim to rim, wondered if the strange 
phenomena were not a divine testimony to the new prophet. 

To Thoma neither of these explanations was sufficient. 
The quietly spoken words, “ Jesus of Nazareth,” had 
thrilled him deeply, at once recalling events of the past, 
and throwing light on those of the present. No doubt the 
name Jesus was common enough in the land ; but there was 
only one Jesus specially known or interesting to him or his 
family, — the Jesus born thirty years before in his father’s 
stable. And was not this the very same? Was not this the 
angel-heralded One ? If so, he could understand why his 
face was familiar, and, in part at least, why he should im- 
press the Baptist so strongly. In consequence of these 
exciting thoughts, Thoma’s gaze had been steadily fixed on 
the face of Jesus, not only during his baptism, but when the 
latter was praying on the bank ; and he had clearly seen the 
gleam of light, perfectly distinct even in the glare of Syrian 
sunshine, hover a moment over the Nazarene’s head like a 
dove about to alight. Then, while the upturned face shone 
with a brightness which forced Thoma to lower his eyes, the 
heavenly voice had come, to him, indeed, but half articulate. 
Yet among those mighty tones he had caught unmistakably 
the words, “ My beloved Son.” On lifting his eyes, the 


154 


EMMANUEL ; 


shining countenance was shut out from view by the moving 
throng. 

Vain was Thoraa’s search that day for Jesus of Nazareth ; 
nevertheless, he laid himself down at night with joy and 
hope. The Messiah was come, was certainly come ! 

“ Comfort ye, comfort ye my people, saith your God,” he 
broke forth many times during the day, in the prophet’s 
exultant refrain. “ Speak ye comfortably to Jerusalem, 
and cry unto her that her warfare is accomplished, that her 
iniquity is pardoned ; for she hath received of the Lord’s 
hand double for all her sins.” 

When, however, succeeding days of search proved like- 
wise fruitless, he experienced the natural mental reaction. 
Why did the Promised One 'hide himself from men? he 
asked himself in great perplexity ; could he possibly have 
been mistaken in regard to him? Finally, not a little dis- 
appointed, Thoma found himself obliged to return to his 
family and his labour at Ephraim without another glimpse of 
him who was now the centre of his hopes. He comforted 
himself with the assurance that at the first opportunity he 
would return to the preaching of the Baptist, and renew his 
search. Little did he dream, on issuing from the gloomy 
defile leading up from the Jordan depression, and approach- 
ing his humble home, that on the naked eastern brow of the 
hill near by, on many a day three years later, he was to sit 
with the very Jesus of Nazareth whom he now longed to 
find, and hear from the latter’s own lips the account of what 
happened after his disappearance from the Jordan. 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH, 


155 


CHAPTER X. 

TEMPTED LIKE AS WE ARE.^ 

But thou, infernal Serpent, ehalt not long 
Rule in the cloudtj; like an autumnal star, 

Or lightning, thou ehalt fall from heaven, trod down 
Under Ilie feet : . . . 

In all her gates, Abaddon rues 
Thy bold attempt ; hereafter learn with awe 
To dread the Son of God • He all unarmed 
Shall chase thee with the terror of Hie voice 
From thy demonic holds, poeeession foul, 

Thee and thy legions. 

Paradise Regained. 

I T was a matter of no difficulty, in the confusion fol- 
lowing the supposed peal of thunder, for the young 
Carpenter from Nazareth to escape from the multir 
tilde unobserved. After the lapse of a few hours, he had 
left the whole scene at the Jordan behind, and buried him- 
self in the solitudes of the neighbouring wilderness. An 
irresistible impulse drove him from the presence of men, 
once more to meditate upon the divine call which that day 
he had heard, not only within him, but from the very skies ; 
and this wilderness region, whose silences were broken 
only by the occasional scream of an eagle, or the lonely 
cry at night of a beast of prey prowling forth from his 
cavern den or his lair in the thickets of the Jordan, gave 
him the solitude which he desired. 

Startling, wonderful, and in some cases full of promise, 
as the scene at his baptism had been to many, to him its 
significance was incomparably greater. At last the ques- 
tion was settled : he, and not another, was the Chosen 
One, the Lord’s Anointed. The great prophet of God, 


1 Matt. iv. 1-11. 


156 


EMMANUEL ; 


whose voice was shaking the land, had recognized him ; 
the voice from heaven had confirmed and completed the 
recognition. The sign, long waited for, but neither 
longed for nor dreaded, had come at last : he was the 
Son of God, and the time of his manifestation was at 
hand. 

And now his thoughts wandered backward. Well he 
remembered that scene in the Temple in the days of his 
boyhood ; distinctly he recalled how, as he listened to the 
Rabbis, thought over their teaching, and asked them the 
questions which came crowding into his mind, suddenly, as 
by a dash out of the clear sky, the thought came that per- 
haps he himself, humble lad from despised Nazareth, might 
be the Lord’s Messiah. Even before that, he had learned 
to look up to God as his Father, and to feel that he must 
be about his Father’s business; but that day he looked 
back upon as the time when he began to come to self-con- 
sciousness. What was a possibility to him then, developed, 
with his growth to manhood, into a probability, and finally 
into certainty. 

But side by side with this growing conviction of Messianic 
calling, had arisen a more thorough comprehension of the 
mighty task involved in it. Many an evening on the hill 
above his home, as he watched the sun sink into the Great 
Sea, he had thought of the Roman oppressors come from 
beyond its blue waters to conquer his people ; but he was 
not long in perceiving that deliverance from these would 
not be redemption for the nation. He saw that, notwith- 
standing the popular belief, the overthrow of Roman 
power was not the first need, the crying need, for Israel, 
nor for the world, The real bondage of the daughter of 
Zion was to sin ; her great yoke was that of the Power of 
Darkness ; and, saddest fact of all, her enslavement was 
so complete that even her religion was involved in it. 
Could men but be liberated from the thraldom of sin, no 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH, 


157 


other form of oppression could long endure. But to free 
a nation — nay, a world ! — from slavery to the Evil One, — 
who was sufficient for that? That was a task dwarfing 
into insignificance the work commonly expected of the 
Christ. 

And in such a task, to whom could he look for helpers? 
To the people? Vain resource; from the down-trodden 
and depraved masses little support for such a work was to 
be expected. To the leaders of the nation, the priesthood 
and the scribes and Pharisees ? Alas ! these men were as 
sin-bound as any in the nation ; nay, their condition was 
the most hopeless of all ; since popular esteem, won by 
hypocrisy, and the arrogant self-complacency of wealth 
and conscious power, had too often crushed their spiritual 
life, and left them dead in self-conceit. Could these 
leaders of the people be counted on for aid in a campaign 
against iniquity? Nay, they would surely meet such a 
movement with bitter opposition, and the leader of it with 
persecution. They would be quick to see in such warfare 
a blow at their power ; to feel in it a rebuke of their prac- 
tices. Plainly, a spiritual, even more than a political, 
liberator must go forth to his work with his life in his 
hand, counting that, if he escaped violence from the hands 
of a people disappointed in their cherished expectations, 
he would certainly be unable to avoid opposition, persecu- 
tion, perhaps death, from the hands of a powerful and 
unscrupulous hierarchy. 

Ah ! but there was a mystery, a great mystery, — a mys- 
tery so profound that the nation suspected not its existence, 
yet one disclosing more and more a distinct outline as it 
was studied. The prophet had foretold that the Messiah 
should i^our out his soul unto death ; had likened him to a 
lamb led to the slaughter, and had declared that on him 
the Lord had laid the iniquity of all. For ages, countless 
sacrificial offerings, in themselves powerless to atone for 


158 


EMMANUEL ; 


sin, had borne mute, but eloquent, testimony to the need of 
an atoning sacrifice. With increasing clearness one great 
and fearful fact stood forth, — he who would truly free the 
people from evil must not only lead them into the paths of 
righteousness, but take upon himself the burden of their 
past trangression. The Christ must not only live and 
labour, he must die for the redemption of Israel. 

Such, we may well believe, were the thoughts which, from 
time to time, came trooping through the mind of Jesus, the 
carpenter of Nazareth ; and more and more, as he grew in 
years, such were the conflicts fought out in his soul. Their 
real stress upon his spiritual nature, however, now belonged 
to years gone by, — to the former days at Nazareth when 
steady, monotonous toil at his trade during the week. 
Sabbaths spent in the village synagogue or on the orchard- 
covered slopes about the town, and evenings passed on the 
neighbouring hill-top under the brilliant, star-sprinkled Gal- 
ilaean sky, made up the round of his obscure and simple 
life. When he came to the Jordan, a walk of lowly, sin- 
less obedience before God had so clarified his mental vision 
and broadened his horizon that he was without question as 
to the real work before the Messiah, and almost without 
question that he was himself the Chosen One of God. Ah, 
but what a work was that ! And now that the light and 
the voice from the opened heavens had confirmed the testi- 
mony in his own spirit, what a responsibility was laid upon 
him ! 

A noble and lofty thought is always an elevating force, 
strengthening the spiritual side of the man. Often before 
had such thoughts lifted Jesus, as they will in some meas- 
ure lift any man, above many of the wants and temptations 
of human nature. It is not strange, therefore, that now, 
absorbed in the contemplation of things supremely great, 
— it is not strange that the spiritual nature of Jesus should 
have dominated the physical with a completeness rare even 


THE STORY OF THE 3IESSIAH. 


159 


in him up to the time of his death; and that he should 
have become forgetful of the ordinary needs of his body, 
week following week during which he felt not, or ignored, 
the craving for earthly food. Hiding in the caverns of the 
mountain during the frequent winter storms and the occa- 
sional heats of noonday ; climbing at morning and evening 
some lonely peak, where he could look over the land from 
Mount Hermon to the Bituminous Lake, from the mountains 
of Gilead across the populous hill-country to the blue Ut- 
most Sea, — the Lord passed forty solitary days, unmindful 
of hunger. 

This could not continue indefinitely ; the bodily strain 
became greater than it could bear without protest. Jesus 
was an hungered. The height of the wave measures the 
depth of the trough at its side ; and the greatness of the 
exaltation during a spiritual state indicates, in no small 
degree, the extent of the reaction to follow. In the sub- 
sidence of spiritual tide in Jesus, after the forty days’ fast, 
the physical nature not only reasserted its claims, but pre- 
sented them with exceeding power ; it struggled for a 
supremacy corresponding to its previous subjection. The 
Evil One seized this moment to bring doubt again into 
the mind of Jesus. Again there came to him in a flood 
the old questions as to the certainty of his Messiahship. 

After all, who was this wilderness preacher? Might not 
the man be beside himself? And as for the sign from 
heaven, could he be sure it was not a delusion? At any 
rate, — and the subtle suggestion gave no hint that it was 
not purely the expression of his own judgment in its 
cooler moments, — at any rate, he could easily determine 
the matter. A divine mission such as his must carry with 
it divine endowments ; surely the power of God would be 
at the disposal of the Lord’s Messiah. Let him put his 
divine power, if he really possessed it, to the practical test. 
An imperative occasion was at hand. He was alone in the 


IGO 


EMMANUEL ; 


heart of a savage wilderness, fainting, perhaps dying, from 
lack of food, and with strength far too small to carry him 
over the desert wastes to the nearest habitation. Surely, 
his Heavenly Father did not intend him to perish there at 
the very outset of his career, and to find a grave among 
the rocks, known only to the vagrant jackals. 

“Hence,” ran the plausible suggestion, “settle this 
question now, once for all ; and at the same time satisfy 
the torturing cravings of hunger, and save thyself from 
an untimely grave. If thou art the Son of God, com- 
mand that these stones become bread.” 

But sudden and powerful as was this temptation, unit- 
ing in its support, as it did, the natural desires of both 
spirit and body, nevertheless Jesus was found prepared for 
it. Yet not Omnipotence and Omniscience foiled the 
tempter, but humanity — humanity, in the strength of 
perfect purity. Not to be thus turned aside at the very 
outset of his career had the Son of man, the Man of men, 
spent so many years in lowly obedience to, and patient 
learning from, his Father in heaven. True, he did not 
doubt that God would sanction him and his work by en- 
dowing him with superhuman power ; but that power must 
be used for the good of others, never for his own advan- 
tage ; it must simply bear witness to his work, not give him 
ability to do it. Otherwise he could not be a perfect 
leader of men, for they would not be able to follow in his 
footsteps. It was as the prophet had foretold ; the Mes- 
siah must tread the wine-press alone ; and even in his then 
exhausted state, the doing his Father’s will was more to 
him than the satisfaction of any craving, physical or men- 
tal. He replied to the voiceless prompting in words famil- 
iar to the humblest Israelite : — 

“It is written, Man shall not live by bread alone, but 
by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God.” 

The tempter was foiled, but not driven away. Still 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


161 


keeping his personality in the background, thereby becom- 
ing all the more dangerous, since his suggestions had the 
appearance of being the natural promptings of Jesus’ 
own mind, the adversary awaited a new opportunity. Soon 
it presented itself. The long fast produced its natural 
effect ; the bodily strain became too great, and Jesus 
lost consciousness, his mind wandering to points far dis- 
tant. Presently, under the influence of a hidden force, it 
seemed to him that he stood in the Holy City, and on that 
lofty pinnacle of the Temple overhanging the Kedron 
valley, from which at daybreak the keen-eyed priest 
watched for the walls of Hebron. In the sacred courts 
far below the worshippers were going up to the evening 
sacriflce, many of them gazing in wonder at his presence 
there. Suddenly the thought came to him : — 

“ Now is the time! If thou art the Son of God, cast 
thyself down ; for it is written, — 

lie shall give his angels charge concerning thee ; 

And on their hands they shall bear thee up, 

Lest haply thou dash thy foot against a stone. 

Mightily will such a miracle convince the people now 
watching thee, and place thy Messiahship beyond the pos- 
sibility of a doubt I From highest to lowest Israel will 
acknowledge thee, and flock to thy standard 1 and thy 
career begun thus in wonder will go on in splendour.” 

Those who have seen the readiness with which men 
yield to temptations to presumption ; their common dispo- 
sition, for instance, in open disregard of clearly revealed 
direction, to try in their own experience how far the 
power of God to save can be stretched in this world or the 
world to come, — such readers will not think this second 
temptation of the Christ a strange nor a slight one. Yet 
it failed to divert Jesus from the path of duty. He would 
not presume on his relationship to God, nor drop the 


162 


EMMANUEL ; 


hand of his Heavenly Father thus at the very begin- 
ning. Once more the answer to the suggestion, the posi- 
tive rejection of its advice, came in the words of the 
Scriptures : — 

“It is written again, Thou shalt not try the Lord thy 
God.’^ 

A third time, under malign influence, the scene changed, 
and with it the form of the trial. Jesus found himself 
standing on the very summit of snow-crowned Hermon, 
where, spread out before him, was a prospect which for 
grandeur far surpassed any ever viewed from mountain 
peak by natural eye ; for displayed to his gaze were all 
the kingdoms of the world and the glory of them. No 
question now of Jesus’ divine mission was raised by the 
tempter. Instead, with a feigned solicitude, as it were 
with the whisper of an angelic monitor, he brought before 
the mind of the Christ such considerations as these : — 

“ Thou, the Son of God, art endowed with all right and 
authority upon this earth ; surely, then, thou art more than 
a mere Jewish Messiah. Thy mission is world-wide. 
Behold thy proper dominion spread out before thee. All 
this shall be thine if thou vvilt seize the needful means. 
By thy supernatural power thou canst overcome all opposi- 
tion ; by thy divine insight thou canst guide, frustrate, over- 
rule, all the machinations of the evil-disposed ; thou canst 
march in triumph through these opulent lands as did never 
a CiBsar, a Pompey, or an Alexander, and establish an 
empire splendid, enduring, truly world-wide. Be not, then, 
an enthusiast, wedded to impracticable methods and a nar- 
row sphere. See the only means by which the dominion of 
the earth can be won. A might which even the dullest 
and the most vicious must respect ; a craft which can 
balance man against man, party against party, and use 

the passions and appetites of men for its own purposes, 

these are the means, the necessary conditions, of success- 
ful rulership on this earth. ” 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH, 103 

The temptation was a strong one. Certainly his mission 
,was world-wide, and all the kingdoms in sight belonged of 
right to him ; with little doubt, also, the means proposed 
would win them for him. These were, it is true, those 
which the Prince of this world, the Power of darkness, had 
employed from time immemorial ; but why not meet Satan 
with his own weapons ? Why throw self away in a fruit- 
less endeavour to conquer the world by purely spiritual 
means, and win men to an impossible holiness? 

Again, however, the devil proved unequal to his task. 
His third temptation was a failure. Jesus had not come to 
be a second and greater Caesar ; lie had long seen the es- 
sential littleness of such a career, which, even in its per- 
fection, disturbed the sway of the Evil One not at all. 
His work was to set up a kingdom which should destroy 
the empire of Satan, till then universal. To adopt the 
methods of the arch-adv^ersary, to rule the earth in accord- 
ance with conditions imposed by the devil, was not to 
conquer but to serve him, not to humble him, but to wor- 
ship him. The crisis in this ordeal had now come ; Jesus 
recognized his real opponent, and drove him from him 
with the peremptory command, “Get thee hence, Satan: 
for it is written. Thou shalt worship the Lord thy God, 
and Him only shalt thou serve.” 

The command was obeyed. The devil left him for a 
season, and the Messiah found himself, exhausted and 
faint, on the desolate wilderness hill-side. The dusk and 
the chill airs of evening were about him, though farther up 
a radiance from the unseen setting sun was still resting on 
the tops of the neighbouring summits. Then, that which 
under the utmost stress he refused to command for himself, 
that manifestation of the supernatural for which he longed, 
yet would by no means seize, — that, his Heavenly Father, 
the struggle being over and the victory won, sent him all 
unasked ; for, “ Behold, angels came and ministered unto 


1G4 


EMMANUEL ; 


him.” Body and spirit of the Eedeemer alike were nour- 
ished and refreshed by their coming and their ministra- 
tions ; the last doubt was banished forever by evidence 
convincing and unchallengeable. 

After a night of repose and divine communion, the Sou 
of God went forth from his wilderness retreat, with the 
Holy Spirit upon him in new fulness, with a conviction of 
Messianic mission henceforth steadfast and unquestioned, 
and with many an event in the future discerned with new 
clearness, — even the cloud of martyrdom before him, the 
darkest spot in his way, being illumined with blessed 
meaning and promise. He went forth the strong one, tried 
but victorious. 




THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


165 


CHAPTER XI. 


FIRST CITIZENS OF THE KINGDOM.^ 


Behold ray servant, whom I uphold; ray chosen, in whom ray soul delighteth; 
. . . He shall not cry, nor lift up, nor cause his voice to be heard in the street. 
A bruised reed shall he not break, and the smoking liax shall he not quench. 

Isaiah xiii. 1-3. 


W EEK followed week, and more than a month went 
by ; the trees put forth their leaves, the pastures 
were carpeted with flowers, and still Thoma was 
detained at home, and unable to return to the Jordan. 

Meanwhile, the memory of the burning words of the 
prophet in the wilderness had widened not a little the gap 
between him and the teachers of his people. Every Sab- 
bath, and occasionally during the week, Thoma, as became 
a true Israelite, attended the worship of the synagogue ; he 
added his “Amen” to the numberless ascriptions and 
petitions. He joined in the few responses, and listened 
decorously during the readings from the Scriptures and 
the expositions of the elders ; but the contrast between 
these familiar services, so highly esteemed by the people 
at large, and the simple worship of the congregations at 
the Jordan was not to be ignored. This meaningless 


repetition of the words of the Law and the Prophets, with 
great effort at accuracy in word and syllable, and little 
or no thought of the meaning of the sacred writer, — what 
a sorry contrast it made with those same words, instinct 
with life and rich in meaning, as they poured from the elo- 
quent lips of John ! Then, how different this endless 
dwelling upon and repetition of dead men’s opinions ; 
this wearisome quibbling over externals, — such questions 


1 John i. 19-42. 


166 


EMMANUEL ; 


as whether an egg laid on the Sabbath could be eaten, or 
whether a flat plate with a rim could become ceremonially 
unclean, — how different all this hair-splitting from that 
positive, confident proclamation of truth, and that fearless 
arraignment of iniquity, which made the Baptist’s preaching 
like an autumnal tempest, a power cleansing the mental 
atmosphere of dust and miasma, and refreshing the soul 
with life-giving waters ! 

Doubtless the Pharisees, in their comfortable and dis- 
dainful confidence of election and adoption as divine 
favourites, would tell him that such thoughts only evi- 
denced the darkened state of his unlearned, and hence 
ungodly, mind ; but the day had gone by in which the 
family of Salmon yielded to these arrogant leaders the 
coveted meed of unquestioning and reverent regard. Not 
even to the great Rabbis, the honoured and almost wor- 
shipped expounders of the Law, — though he had not yet 
come to criticise them as he did later, — would Thoma do 
the homage customary among the people. Other men 
might bend before them in lowest obeisance, might look 
upon them with awe, as the virtual colleagues of God in 
the heavenly Sanhedrin ; not so would the son of Salmon. 
For him their authority was sapped, if not overthrown. 
Scribes and Pharisees, too^ might observe, if they could, 
the countless washings and distinctions of food, the fast- 
ings, prayers, repetitions of Scripture passages, and other 
rites and ceremonies laid down by the Rabbis as essential 
to favour with God ; as for him, he had an increasing 
impreesion that other matters were higher in the esteem of 
the God of Israel, while his strong common sense told him 
that these ceremonies, if performed strictly as prescribed, 
would make life a burden, a journey amidst snares and 
pitfalls, cares and anxieties, innumerable. 

Some weeks after his return home, the feast of Purim, 
commemorative of the national deliverance in the days of 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


IGT 


Esther, was celebrated. As usual, Thoraa was present in 
the synagogue on the eve of the feast, and listened to the 
reading of the whole book of Esther ; but this year he had 
little sympathy with the noisy demonstrations of the ser- 
vice, — the shrill cries of the children, and the cursing and 
stamping on the floor of the older members of the congre- 
gation at every mention of the word Haman. 

“ Haman hath been hanged these many generations,’* 
said the thoughtful peasant to himself ; “ it were far better 
the people turned their minds to present wickedness, and 
learned to repent as the great preacher commandeth. Then 
would the Messiah find a people prepared for his rule.” 

It lacked less than a month of the Passover season when 
Thoma, to his own satisfaction and that of the whole house- 
hold, found himself able to leave his work for a few days at 
the Jordan. It was not the Baptist, however, who now drew 
him most powerfully. He was on a quest of the most excit- 
ing character ; he sought One who had been the object of a 
nation’s hope for generations, — the foremost figure in proph- 
ecy, the theme of discourses and prayers without number. 

The multitudes about John were undiminished. On the 
contrary, so great was the stir the latter was creating in 
the land that the religious authorities at Jerusalem felt 
compelled to take cognizance of the matter, and to investi- 
gate, in an informal way, the claims and character of the 
new preacher. It so happened that the day of Thoma’s 
return was also that of the arrival of a delegation of priests 
and Levites — presumably those most likely to be favourably 
and frankly received by the priestly Baptist — from the 
Pharisaic party in the Sanhedrin. Knowing full well the 
reception given to certain prominent men on a former occa- 
sion, the Sanhedrist representatives maintained a respectful 
bearing on approaching John. They stated, through their 
leader, at the first opportunity, the authority by which they 
had come, and their mission. 


168 . 


EMMANUEL ; 


“Who art thou? was their question in conclusion; 
“art thou the Christ?” 

“ I am not the Christ,” was the quiet answer. 

“ What then ? Art thou Elijah ? ” 

“ I am not.” 

‘ ‘ Art thou the prophet ? ” 

“ Nay.” 

“ Who art thou? that we may give an answer to them 
that sent us. What sayest thou of thyself ? ” 

“ I am the voice of one crying in the wilderness,” was 
the stirring reply, “ Make straight the way of the Lord, as 
said Isaiah the prophet.” 

“ Why then baptizeth thou, if thou art not the Christ, 
neither Elijah, neither the prophet? ” 

“ 1 baptize in water; in the midst of you standeth one 
whom ye know not, even he that cometh after me, the 
latchet of whose shoes I am not worthy to unloose.” 

Thoma was quick to interpret this declaration ; the Mes- 
siah, then, was standing in the throng at that very moment ! 
Eagerly he looked over the multitude ; and, when the ser- 
mon and the baptisms were over, most diligently did he 
scan the various groups as the people dispersed to their 
camp. In his search he fell in again with his acquaint- 
ance of Bethsaida of Galilee. 

“ Peace be unto thee, John ! ” he exclaimed. 

“ The peace of God rest upon thee, Bar-Salmon.” 

“ Art thou still listening to the Baptist? ” 

“ Yea, I am indeed ; I have become a disciple.” 

“ Thou dost not now think him the Messiah? ” 

“ Nay, friend ; but he will yet point us to that Blessed 
One.” 

“ John,” said Thoma quickly, changing his tone, 
“ sawest thou the baptism of one Jesus of Nazareth when 
I was with thee before? ” 

“ Truly, I did — the man whose prayer was interrupted 
with thunder and lightning, is it not? ” 


THE STORY OF TUE MESSIAH. 


169 


“ It was not thunder ; it was the voice of God speaking to 
him, and calling him Ilis beloved Son. I tell thee, Bar- 
Zebedee, this man is Israel’s Messiah.” 

“ Sayest thou so? One of our own company telleth 
much the same story ; and, verily, we have believed him 
not. Come with me, friend ; we will find him, and thou 
slialt repeat this that thou hast said.” 

The young man, now all eagerness, led Thoma to a 
secluded booth of oak and sycamore boughs, and there 
presented him to two men, the older of whom, a man of 
medium size and good Jewish features, was about his own 
age. This was Andrew, son of Jonah, and, like John, a 
native of Bethsaida. But it needed little penetration to 
perceive that his brother, Simon, though a few years his 
junior, was the stronger character of the two, and the 
leader in the little company. His large frame and strong 
features, — boldly arched nose, keen and roving black eyes, 
and firmly set mouth, — together with the vigour of his 
movements, denoted a man of energy and decision. One 
would not have expected deep thinking from Simon ; but 
an experienced observer would not have been long in de- 
ciding that there were possibilities of grand achievement in 
him. One naturally contrasted him with the son of Zebe- 
dee, Tvho, though ten years younger, was closely bound to 
him by ties of friendship. John was more handsome in 
countenance and more scrupulous in attire ; Simon more 
rugged and forceful, more self-asserting in appearance. 
Strong men they were both ; but their strength differed. 
Fire could be detected beneath the exterior of each, and it 
was doubtless kinship through the common possession of 
noble ambitions that drew the two men together ; but in 
Simon it flamed high and fitfully ; in John it burned clearly 
and steadily. Possibly one skilled in reading the human 
countenance, which the peasant from Ephraim was not, 
might have predicted that, under favourable circumstances. 


170 


EMMANUEL ; 


Simon would one day become a notable leader of men, and 
bis young friend a thinker and teacher of remarkable 
insight. 

To the sons of Jonah, Thoma repeated in more detail his 
account of the baptism of Jesus. 

“Andrew, my brother, ’tis thy story over. Now, 
blessed be God! This is wonderful,” was Simon’s excited 
comment at the close. 

The four men passed an hour of earnest converse and 
enthusiastic forecast together before darkness closed in 
upon them, — an hour of keen enjoyment and encourage- 
ment to Thoma ; for at last he found himself among con- 
genial spirits, men of ardent Messianic hopes and noble 
ambitions. 

With the return of day, he resumed his quest, but again 
without success. In the afternoon, under the spell of the 
Baptist’s speech, he had momentarily forgotten his pur- 
pose, when, just as evening was drawing near and the ser- 
mon closing, the preacher stopped abruptly, and, as on 
another well-remembered occasion, changed his manner. 

“Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin 
of the world ! ” he cried, looking over the heads of the 
people, a joyful confidence lighting up his rugged features. 
“ This is he of whom I said. After me cometh a man which 
is before me : for he was before me. And I knew him not ; 
but that he should be made manifest to Israel, for this 
cause came I baptizing with water. I have beheld the 
Spirit descending as a dove out of heaven, and it abode 
upon him. And I knew him not ; but He that sent me to 
baptize with water. He said unto me. Upon whomsoever 
thou shalt see the Spirit descending and abiding upon him, 
the same is he that baptizeth with the Holy Spirit. And I 
have seen, and have borne witness that this is the Son of 
God.” 

The stirring testimony was not half finished when Thoma, 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


171 


like many others, turned to look in the direction of the 
speaker’s gaze. Most of those so doing saw nothing un- 
usual. It was indeed Jesus upon whom the eyes of John 
were fixed ; but there was nothing about him, to the com- 
mon observer, to distinguish him from others. Not so 
to Thoma ; he caught sight of Jesus as the latter issued 
from a neighbouring grove and joined the listening multi- 
tude, and the now thoroughly excited peasant pressed 
through the throng in hot haste toward the spot where that 
most interesting countenance had disappeared. Once more 
he was disappointed ; his search was fruitless ; and, more 
discouraging still, another day of anxious seeking brought 
no result. The second night sent him back to his booth, 
weary in body and disappointed in heart ; for he could not 
remain many days away from his home and his work, and 
it now seemed that he would have to return unsatisfied 
after all. 

' Quite other was the fortune of his friends from Galilee. 
Two of them, John and Andrew, were standing near the 
Baptist, in the late afternoon of the second day, the crowd 
meanwhile breaking up and disappearing in the groves 
in various directions. Suddenly, in joyful but confiden- 
tial tones the two heard from the great preacher a repe- 
tition of the testimony of the day before : — 

“ Behold the Lamb of God.” 

This time there could hardly be mistake; John’s eyes 
plainly were directed toward a man walking under the 
trees at a little distance, doubtless returning to his booth. 
It scarcely needed a second glance to assure them that 
this was the very Jesus in whom already they half be- 
lieved, and without hesitation they hastened after him. 

“What seek ye?” said the latter, turning around on 
hearing their pursuing steps. 

For a moment they were abashed ; they had not stopped 
to consider how they would introduce themselves. Then 


172 


EMMANUEL ; 


the raoTe matter-of-fact Andrew stammered otit, “ Rabbi, 
where abidest thou ? ” 

A smile broke over the face of Jesus, and with its 
coming their embarrassment passed away. 

“ Come and ye shall see,” he said, with friendly readi- 
ness, and he led them to his lowly booth. 

It was truly more a matter of seeing than of hearing ; 
but few words were spoken, and those mainly about 
preparations for the night. Yet were they not disap- 
pointed ; for these earnest-hearted Galilseans there was 
a blending of graciousness and authority in their host 
which was full of charm. 

A little while had passed, and they had accepted Jesus’ 
invitation to spend the night with him, when Andrew be- 
thought himself of Simon. Receiving permission to bring 
his brother to their small circle, he hurried away to their 
own booth. 

“ Simon, Simon,” he cried, bursting in upon the latter 
as he sat alone, “ we have found the Messiah ! ” 

Simon sprang to his feet, heard but half his brother’s 
story, and followed him gladly. 

“ Thou art Simon, the son of Jonah,” said Jesus, wel- 
coming him with a smile ; “ thou shalt be called Cephah.” 

Those who heard this name Cephah, a rock, — or its Greek 
equivalent, Peter, — did not immediately recognize its ap- 
propriateness ; Simon was not at first looked upon as a 
rock; in those earlier days his impulsiveness too often 
seemed instability. It was not until heavenly example 
and training, and many a sharp experience, had devel- 
oped the decision in his character ; not until the strength 
of a mighty conviction had disciplined his enthusiasm into 
the service of principle, — not till then that the aptness 
of the name was fully discerned, and they all came to 
know him as Cephah, or Peter. 

With the return of day the three followed their new 


THE SrOEY OF THE 3IESSIAII. 


173 


Master back to his home in Nazareth. On the way, they 
passed unobserved within a few feet of the spot where 
Thoma was vainly going from group to group in quest of 
the Messiah, and went by the very booth in which he had 
spent the night, and in which, but for his earnest purpose 
to find Jesus, he would then have been reclining. 


174 


EMMANUEL ; 


CHAPTER XII. 

THE MESSIAH AS REFORMER.^ 

The Lord, whom ye seek, shall suddenly come to his Temple; and the messen- 
ger of the covenant, whom ye delight in, behold, he cometh, saith the Lord of Hosts. 
But who may abide the day of his coming? and who shall stand when he appeareth? 
for he is like a refiner’s fire, and like fuller’s soap: and he shall sit as a refiner 
and purifier of silver, and he shall purify the sons ot Levi, and purge them as 
gold and silver. 

Malachi m, 1-3. 

A FEW weeks later, on the eve of the Passover, 
Thoma stood in Jerusalem on the noble bridge 
over the Tyropoeon, connecting Mount Zion and 
the old Asmoniean palace with the south-west corner of 
the Temple. It was early April ; the barley in the Ke- 
dron valley was about ready for the sickle, though in most 
upland localities not yet ripe. The full splendour of 
nature’s vernal garb of flowers had passed away with the 
previous month ; but their many-coloured beauty, the scarlet 
hue predominating, still clung to the surrounding hills in 
a thousand places, while all the fruit-trees, the figs only 
excepted, were out in full leaf. In this general prevalence 
of green and golden and scarlet tints the numberless tombs 
about the city, then whitewashed that pilgrims might es- 
cape ceremonial defilement from contact with them, stood 
out in sharp and vivid relief. 

Thoma had come up to the Passover this year, partly 
because he had some lambs for the Temple market, but 
more because he hoped the Messiah would declare himself 
at the feast. While waiting for the trumpet signal for 
bringing the Paschal victims into the altar court, he leaned 
on the stone parapet of the great bridge, watched the 


1 John i.43; ii. 22. 


THE STOEY OF THE MESSIAH. 


175 


crowds of strangers from every nation and clime stream- 
ing across to the Temple, and surveyed, with mingled 
wonder and indignation, the great buildings and public 
works of the Holy City. An orthodox Hebrew had reason 
for indignation ; for besides the odious Antonio tower, 
overlooking the sacred courts, there was the heathen 
theatre in the Tyropoeon just below the great bridge, 
erected by that impious renegade, Jason, who once dis- 
graced the pontifical office. The sight of it was not made 
more tolerable to Thoma by the knowledge that Herod had 
gone even further, and built an amphitheatre in the Gihon 
valley. Suddenly his attention was diverted by the sight 
of two half-familiar faces in the human stream pouring 
over the bridge ; they were those of the Roman officer and 
Greek merchant to whose talk he had listened at the gate 
of Gophna many weeks before. The two were moving 
along at an easy saunter, engaged in animated conver- 
sation. 

“ Thou sayest the truth, Lysias,” Thoma heard the 
Roman say ; “ the dogs are fanatics from the canting 
Pharisee down. Had they but mind to match their relig- 
ious fury, they might accomplish something ; but what can 
be expected of a set of barbarians, who know less of war 
than the very Britons of the wild North, who despise 
learning, and have no works of art or architecture ? ” 

“ Art thou not somewhat over sharp, my Sergius? ” in- 
terposed the Greek. “ Thinkest thou they have no archi- 
tecture ? ” 

“ None at all, Lysias ; none of their own.” Then halting 
with his back against the southern parapet, ‘‘ Look around 
thee. What seest thou deserving to be called architec- 
tural? what that remindeth thee of Antioch, Athens, or 
Rome ? ” 

“Assuredly,” responded the Greek. “The dwellings, 
even of the rich, are mostly rude enough, it is true, even 


1T6 


EMMANUEL ; 


when intended to be luxurious ; but there are noble public 
buildings in Jerusalem, as thou knowest. Yonder royal 
palace, which ye Romans call the Prsetorium, with the 
great towers protecting it, would, methinks, be a very 
acceptable gift to even the Roman Sergius. Then what is 
this on which thou standest? Look down at the great 
arches beneath thee. It is no light task to span a ravine 
an hundred feet in depth with such vast stones as these.” 

“ I dispute thee not, my worthy Lysias. Go on ; what 
findest thou more ? ” 

“ By Olympus, there is more ! Beyond the old Macca- 
baean palace and that of the High Priest — barbarian 
structures, I grant thee — thou seest the mansions of 
many a prince and rich merchant which would not be out 
of place in thine own Rome ; and beyond the walls north- 
ward are handsome villas, though of course not the like of 
those at divine Daphne or on the banks of the canal to 
Canobus. And see ! ” pointing to the Royal Porch of the 
Temple, which began at the eastern extremity of the 
bridge, “is there no beauty, no splendour there? Would 
even imperial Rome find no place for such a cloister ? ” 

Certainly this was a noble sight. The eye followed the 
long vistas of the lofty colonnades with increasing appreci- 
ation and pleasure. 

“ I quarrel not with thee, Lysias,” returned the Roman 
quietly ; “ these are worth beholding, as thou sayest. But 
who built them ? Not one of them is of Jewish construc- 
tion. There,” his eye resting on the Sanctuary crowning 
the hill, “ is the one fine building these Hebrews have 
attempted ; and what is it ? A square box of no great 
size, with a taller and wider one, dwarfing it absurdly, 
joined to it in front, and the whole blotched with gold, 
armed on top with a forest of gilt spikes, and surrounded 
at a little distance by a thick wall of clumsy workman- 
ship. There is the barbarian’s idea of splendour, — a rude 


THE STOEY OF THE MESSIAH. 


17T 


stracture smeared with gold ! Who built the few really 
great works in Jerusalem? The Jews? Nay, by the im- 
mortal gods ! it was Ilerod and his imitators. And where, 
thinkest thou, did Herod gain his knack of building? from 
the Hebrews ? 

“Nay, Sergius,” said the Greek with a smile. “I 
doubt not he went to the same school as our lords, the 
Eomans, — the school of Greece. He and ye have drank 
at the same Attic stream.” 

The Roman frowned ; then, drawing himself up proudly, 
resumed his walk with the remark, “ Thy Greek wit 
stands thee in good stead, Lysias.” 

Thoma listened to the disparagement of his people and 
their Holy Temple with indignation hard to restrain. 
More than once he was prompted to hurl the insolent Gen- 
tile into the ravine ; but prudent second thoughts pre- 
vailed. His anger was increased rather than allayed by 
the explanation which the Roman’s remarks gave to pre- 
vious ill-understood sensations of his own. For many 
years he had been unable to look with complacency on any 
building, though put to national or religious uses, which 
had been erected by Herod or the Romans. He perceived 
now that it was not simply because these structures were 
associated with hated oppressors that he disliked them, but 
because they were also evidently superior to anything his 
countrymen had produced ; and Thoma was much too true 
an Israelite to take pleasure in what even appeared to put 
his people to shame. 

“ Hail, Thoma Bar-Salmon ! ” came to him in a familiar 
voice while he was still lost in these bitter reflections, 
“why is thy countenance fallen?” 

He looked up to recognize John of Bethsaida, whose 
salutation he returned with warmth. 

“ I mourned, Bar-Zebedee, over the captivity of the 
Daughter of Zion. Alas ! it is an evil day when she is 


178 


EMMANUEL ; 


powerless to chastise impious, uncircumcised revilers at 
the very gate of the Lord’s house.” 

“ Let them beware ! ” John returned, his anger kin- 
dling ; “their power is short.” Then, with eagerness, 
“We have found the Messiah, Thoma.” 

“Now God be praised ! ” exclaimed the latter, starting 
up ; “ hast thou found him, John? and is he Jesus of Naz- 
areth ? ” 

“Yea, friend, thou sayest it.” Then, after a moment, 
“Thou didst not find him, Thoma, the day the Baptist 
pointed him out?” 

“Nay, nor in the two days after. How was it that 
thou earnest upon him, and I not?” 

John related the story of the Baptist’s second testimony, 
and of the first night’s sojourn with Jesus. 

“But whither went ye that I met ye not?/’ Thoma 
broke in. 

“ To Nazareth, with break of day; and there is much 
to tell thee, Bar-Salmon, of that journey. As we started 
out, the Master stopped before the booth of one Philip, 
a neighbour of mine in Bethsaida. He had been baptized 
the day before, but had never looked upon the Promised 
One. Nevertheless, when Jesus looked upon him and 
said, ‘ Philip, follow me,’ he arose and came with us, 
demurring not, though wondering. Dost thou marvel? 
Thou wilt not, friend, when thou hast met the Master face 
to face. Surely he was born a king, Bar-Salmon. But 
this is not all, nor the half. Wast thou ever at Beth 
Shean, which the heathen call Scythopolis ? ” 

“ Nay, never was I farther north than the Bethany 
ford.” 

*• Pmter not its gates, then, friend ; walk not its polluted 
streets. Behold, the uncircumcised have erected heathen 
temples within its walls, and a vile circus without them. 
We stopped for rest and for meat and drink by the stream 


TUE STOUT OF THE MESSIAH. 


1T9 


which floweth through the city, and not far from another 
company of returning pilgrims ; for thou must know that 
the waters of Beth Shean are justly famed in Galilee. Our 
new comrade, Philip, learning that the other company was 
from Cana of Galilee, made inquiry for his friend Nathanael 
Bar-Tolmai, who was baptized the same day ” — 

John checked his flowing speech abruptly ; and, bethink- 
ing himself, turned to a companion, whom in the absorption 
of their great theme, both he and Thoma had overlooked. 
Him he now presented to his Judaean friend. 

“ Nathanael,” he added, “ do thou tell the son of Salmon 
of thy coming to the Messiah.” 

The man thus addressed was not far from thirty years of 
age, of medium stature, and of a pure and thoughtful cast 
of countenance. To judge from expression and manner, 
he was naturally reflective and retiring. 

“Friend,” he said, continuing John’s narrative with some 
diffidence, “ I was not with our company when Philip sought 
me ; I had withdrawn into a neighbouring fig-orchard, that 
I might be alone to think and pray. My mind was full of 
the great things I had heard from the prophet at the Jor- 
dan, and particularly his announcement of the Messiah’s 
speedy coming. The Lord only knoweth how long and how 
earnestly I have hoped to see that Blessed One. As I sat 
in the orchard picturing to myself his majesty and my joy- 
ful adherence to him and his cause, all consciousness of 
my surroundings passed from me, till certain sound in our 
company, not far distant, admonished me that they were 
about to depart. Very reluctantly I arose and moved 
toward them, when, to my surprise, Philip met me with 
glad tidings, indeed. 

“ ‘ Bar-Tolmai,’ he cried, ‘ we have found him of whom 
Moses in the Law, and the prophets, did write, Jesus of 
Nazareth, the son of Joseph.’ 

“ Thou shouldest know, friend, that Nazareth hath not 
the best of reputations among our Galilaean towns. 


180 


EMMANUEL ; 


“ ‘ Nazareth/ said I dubiously, though not a little 
startled, ‘ can any good thing come out of Nazareth?’ 

“ ‘ Come and see,’ said Philip confidently. 

“I followed him, and came to this Jesus of Nazareth; 
but I cannot tell thee what I saw in him. Thou, too, 
must look upon the Master for thyself. From the first 
sight of him, I felt myself under a singular attraction, and 
when he turned his eyes upon me, and, his face lighting up 
with a winning smile, spoke words of welcome, my doubts 
disappeared altogether. 

“ ‘ Behold,’ he said as I drew near, ‘ an Israelite indeed, 
in whom is no guile ! ’ 

“ I was astonished at the recognition manifest in his 
face, and confused by his penetrating, though friendly, 
gaze ; and I stammered out, ‘ Whence knowest thou me ? ’ 

“ ‘ Before that Philip called thee,’ he said quietly, ‘ when 
thou wast under the fig-tree, I saw thee.’ 

“ Then it flashed upon me that this man had read my 
thoughts and looked into my heart in my holiest moments, 
and when I knew myself to be entirely hidden from the 
ej^es of men ; and I felt that only directly from God could 
he have gained such power. 

“ ‘ Rabbi,’ I said in deepest awe, ‘ thou art the Son of 
God ; thou art the King of Israel.’ 

“ ‘ Because,’ he answered gravely, ‘ I said unto thee, I 
saw thee under the fig-tree, believest thou? thou shalt see 
greater things than these. Verily, verily, I say unto you, 
from this time on ye shall see heaven standing open, and 
the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son 
of man.’ ” 

Nathanael paused; the excitement of his theme had 
broken down his diffidence, and given him unwonted 
fluency and enthusiasm. But the moment his story was 
told, he fell back into his usual rcseiwe. 

“ Go on, Nathanael,” said John, “ thou art from Cana ; 
tell the story of the feast.” 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


181 


But Nathanael was not to be drawn into further recital ; 
so John took up the narrative. 

“We arrived in Nazareth the day following ” — 

“What said his towns-people of Jesus?” interposed 
Thoma ; “believed they he is the Messiah?” 

“ Truly I know not ; we were not long in the town ; but 
the few we met seemed astonished that he should be ac- 
companied with disciples. We left the place the same day 
that we arrived, and went with Miriam, the Master’s 
mother, to the marriage of a relative over at Cana. Since 
we had become followers of Jesus, she included us in the 
invitation to the wedding. 

“ I doubt not that thou hast been to marriage feasts 
enough Thoma, and knowest well what this one was like ; 
for at first there was nothing remarkable about it. Though 
it was night when we arrived in Cana, the bridegroom had 
not yet left the house. He received us all cordially, and 
we went with him to bring the bride and her maidens. On 
returning, the feasting and merrymaking for some time 
went on as usual ; but, before the festivities were over, 
the hour came when I could see by the faces and actions 
of the servants that something was amiss. A little later 
Miriam came to Jesus in great anxiety. 

“ ‘ My Son,’ she said in a whisper, ‘ they have no wine.’ 

“ There w^as some hidden reference in her words which I 
did not grasp ; the Master understood it, however, and 
clearly did not approve of it. 

“ ‘ AToman,’ he said kindly, but gravely, ‘ what have I 
to do with thee? mine hour is not yet come.’ 

“ The reply, though I comprehended it not, seemed to 
me a rebuke ; yet his mother was not hurt by it ; she 
smiled lovingly, and went away, to all appearance, sat- 
isfied. Shortly afterward I heard her say to the servants, 
‘ AVhatsoever he sayeth unto you, do it.’ 

“ ‘ Fill the water-pots with water,’ said Jesus to the at- 


182 


EMMANUEL ; 


tendants, when Miriam had returned to the bride and her 
maidens. 

“ There were six of these of large size standing by the 
door, but the guests had drawn from them so freely for 
purifications that they were nearly empty. It was a work 
of time and labour to fill the great vessels ; but the servants 
did as directed. What, thinkest thou, said the Master 
next? 

“ ‘ Draw out now and bear to the ruler of the feast ! ’ 

“ We watched the execution of this command in silent 
amazement. What could be the object in offering water to 
those who had been drinking wine? Very soon our eyes 
were opened. The ruler of the feast, on tasting the 
proffered cup, called out merrily to the bridegroom, — 

“ ‘ Every man setteth on first the good wine ; and when 
men have drunk freely then that which is worse : thou hast 
kept the good wine until now.’ 

“ Bar-Salmon, thou wilt readily believe I lost no time in 
going to those water-pots and drinking from them myself. 
I tell thee that, though thou hast many fine wines on these 
hills around the Holy City, I believe not there is one to 
equal that which filled those great stone jars to the brim ! ” 

John paused, and looked full into Thoma’s searching 
eyes. Neither of them were credulous men ; each recog- 
nized the fact that this narrative was either an idle tale or 
one of wondrous import. 

“ But that is not all,” John continued quickly. “ When, 
after the wedding, we went down to Capernaum to await the 
departure of the caravan for Jerusalem, we saw the Master 
cure a man of his disease by simply laying his hands upon 
him, and bidding him be healed; and another — but the 
Passover is at hand ; let us go and seek the Lord ; I cannot 
tell thee his glory ; thou must look upon him with thine own 
eyes, and behold for thyself his power and grace.” 

Thoma had listened to John’s recital with an amazement 


THE STORY OF THE 3IESSIAIL 


183 


which only the memory of the heavenly voice at the Jordan, 
and of the angel heralds on the hill-side thirty years before, 
prevented becoming incredulity. He was not a man of 
easy belief in the marvellous ; the supernatural was by no 
means a matter of course with him, — a thing to be believed 
in as readily as the first appearance of the new moon ; but 
this miracle certainly seemed well attested. So, with a 
mind longing, yet hesitating, to believe, he followed his 
friends into the Temple. 

Soon the three stood in Solomon’s Porch, opposite the 
Beautiful Gate. It was with no little difficulty that they 
reached this point ; for besides the throngs of people of all 
nations pouring through the cloisters, there were droves of 
sheep and cattle, and countless crates of doves on sale for 
the sacrifices, and numerous tables of money-changers 
crowding the space between the Chel balustrade and the 
'various porches, and even obstructing and defiling the 
noble arcades themselves. In his earlier years, Thoma had 
wondered that the priests should allow so much of the 
Lord’s house to be turned into a cattle market, with its at- 
tendant filth and intolerable noise and confusion ; but his 
wonder changed into deep indignation when, growing older, 
he found that the ecclesiastical custodians shared in the 
profits of the offensive traffic. On this occasion his anger 
flamed up, as often before, when, as he and his companions 
were about to ascend to the Beautiful Gate, they found 
their way blocked by a group of porters bearing crates 
of doves. 

‘‘ Bar-Salmon,” said John in a low voice, while Thoma 
was still chafing over the fresh delay, “ behold the Mes- 
siah*! he standeth before the gate.” 

Thoma looked in the direction indicated. There, as 
John said, on the steps leading to the Chel and the great 
gate, stood Jesus of Nazareth. At the sight of him all else 
was forgotten. At last the peasant from Ephraim looked 


184 


EMMANUEL ; 


upon him who had occupied his thoughts for so many weeks. 
Nor was he disappointed in what he saw. Great as were 
his expectations, magnified as they had become by the 
narrative of John, the testimony of the Baptist, and his 
memories of early days, they were met ; the more he gazed, 
the more he saw that they were met in him whom John 
called Master. There was the same simple, native maj- 
esty, the same power in repose, expressed in form and in 
feature, which, wdth vision truer than that of the multi- 
tude, he had partially perceived at the Jordan. Yet he no 
longer strove to reach the Messiah, and do him reverence. 
There was a fear-inspiring expression in that countenance 

— a firmness of the moutb, a straightness of the eyebrows 

— which made him pause, and awoke within him sensa- 
tions of awe. 

Nor did that which followed allay these sensations. 
AVIiile he looked, Jesus girded himself, and, taking from 
the floor of the court a handful of rushes and tying them 
into a rude scourge, stepped out into the court in the path 
of the porters with the dove-crates. The men halted, as- 
tonished probably at the lofty bearing of the stranger con- 
fronting them. 

“ Take these things hence,” came imperiously from his 
lips, to the amazement, not of the bystanders only, but of 
his own disciples ; “ make not my Father’s house a house 
of merchandise.” 

The men, abashed, went back hastily among the flocks 
and herds. Immediately Jesus turned to the cattle and 
sheep venders with the same stern mandate, enforcing it on 
the sluggish beasts with the small scourge in his hand. 
The owners of these, likewise, consciously in the wrong, 
fell back before one who seemed to be instinct alike with 
holiness and fearlessness ; while their animals, startled, 
some by the sting of the wdiip, some by the commotion, 
broke from their fastenings, and rushed in a tumultuous 


THE STOMY OF THE MESSIAH. 


185 


mass around the court, and in places through the cloisters, 
toward the openings in the latter where the two bridges led 
into the city. 

Amidst the confusion and consternation which followed, 
one person, the cause of it all, Jesus of Nazareth, was 
calm and fearless. At first he stood watching the rushing 
cattle and the anxious and angry owners ; then, turning to 
a group of money-changers, whose position had saved them 
from the disaster which had befallen their fellows, he over- 
turned their tables, spilled their precious hoards in the 
filth of the profaned court, and, with stern countenance, 
bade them depart with their property, their trickery, and 
their extortion beyond the pale of God’s house. 

When they had slunk away, after greedily picking their 
coins out of the mire, Jesus was left alone. In all the 
open court between the Chel and tlie outer cloisters but 
one figure was to be seen, — the figure of him whose word 
and look had proved more powerful than avarice and pride 
and the consciousness of overwhelming numerical strength. 
It was for a moment only, however, that he stood thus ; 
then the mass of men under the portal of the Beautiful 
Gate was seen to surge outward, disclosing a company of 
chief priests, who, in haughty and angry tones, demanded 
who had done this thing. Jesus being pointed out to them, 
they trooped up to him in proud array, though on nearing 
the calm and undaunted Reformer, their lofty bearing fell 
somewhat, and their anger was put under restraint. The 
stranger actually bore himself as though he had authority. 

“What sign showest thou unto us,” demanded their 
leader more moderately than might have been expected, 
“ seeing that thou doest these things? ” 

“ I will give you one,” was the quiet response : “ Destroy 
this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.” 

But the sign, though not unlike many of the paradoxi- 
cal sayings of the Rabbis, was too dark for men who had 


186 


EMMANUEL ; 


uo special desire to penetrate its meaning. His question- 
ers never understood it, and never forgot it ; and even his 
disciples, who, including Thoma, had gathered around, long 
failed to comprehend it. 

“Forty and six years,” was the indignant retort of the 
interi-ogating priest, “was this Temple in building, and 
wilt thou raise it up in three days ? ” 

Jesus answered not. 

Certainly, if the literal sense was to be insisted on, few 
statements, to the Hebrew mind, could seem more prepos- 
terous ; for the great house had required the labour of ten 
thousand men directed by a thousand priests, for its erec- 
tion ; but this very seeming impossibility should have led 
the hearers to look for a meaning other than the superficial 
one. 

The hierarchs eyed the intruding and unwelcome Re- 
former with indignation not unmingled with respect, while 
the multitude swarmed around instinct with curiosity ; then 
all further developments were prevented, and the attention 
of all was diverted, by a blast overhead from the great 
ram’s-horn trumpets, the signal for the slaughter of the 
Passover victims. Instantly the priests reentered the gate, 
and then the lambs, in countless numbers, on the stout 
shoulders of their owners, passed in also to the court of 
Israel and a sacrificial death. In the ensuing haste and 
excitement, Jesus, but a moment before the object of uni- 
versal regard, walked away unobserved and for the time 
forgotten. 


THE STOBY OF THE MESSIAH, 


187 


CHAPTER XIII. 

FROM JUDiKA TO GALILEE.^ 

Day by day His tender mercy, 

Healing, helping, full and free, 

Brought me lower, while I whispered, 

Less of self and more of thee. 

Theo. Monod. 

T HOMA found his way to the house of the friends 
with whom he was to eat the Passover in a tumult 
Df joyous emotion. He had seen the manifestation 
of the Lord’s Messiah ; he had witnessed the beginning of 
the coming of the kingdom of God, the first royal act of 
the King. Truly these were glorious days ! As he walked 
the streets, he felt like crying with the prophet, “Break 
forth into joy, sing together, ye waste places of Jerusalem : 
for the Lord hath comforted His people. He hath redeemed 
Jerusalem.” Not without good reason had the heavenly 
messengers announced the birth of this man ; by divine 
guidance indeed had the noble strangers from the East 
spread their costly gifts before his infant presence. The 
supper that evening interested him but little ; that ancient 
deliverance seemed very remote and incomplete compared 
with the perfect and glorious one at hand. This tide of 
feeling did not remain at the flood. It had subsided not 
a little by the time he saw Jesus again ; the inaction of 
the latter depressed Thoma — Jesus had failed to raise 
the looked-for standard of revolt. He did not even seek 
further opportunity for conflict with Israel’s corrupt 
rulers ; but during the remaining days of the festival 
sat generally in one of the porches, as a Rabbi of ac- 
knowledged popular standing, indeed, and surrounded by 


* John ii. 23-iv, 42; Mark vi. 17-20. 


188 


EMMANUEL ; 


crowds of respectful listeners, but nevertheless engaged 
in quietly inculcating righteousness instead of inciting in- 
surrection. Thoma was disappointed ; but he consoled 
himself with the reflection that the Messiah must know 
the best hour for setting up his kingdom ; doubtless the 
people were not yet sufficiently prepared for it. Before 
the end of the feast he was satisfied that they were not ; 
and more, that he himself was not prepared for it. 

At first his admiration for the Man from Nazareth in- 
creased steadily as he listened to his teaching and per- 
ceived his keen discernment and pure and lofty thought. 
He was greatly astonished and awed, moreover, by several 
cures worked by Jesus, — cures which, in later years, he and 
his comrades thought little of, and did not remember in 
detail. And yet there was some indefinable barrier keep- 
ing him, and others like him, from avowed discipleship. 
Finally he discovered that Jesus himself, by withdrawing 
from the throng, or turning his teaching into severer and 
less pleasing channels, avoided or checked every public 
manifestation in his favour, every movement looking tow- 
ard open acknowledgment of his Messiahship. Never- 
theless, the son of Salmon would have followed him when 
he left the city, and identified himself with him as a 
disciple, so far as his work at home would permit, had 
not the Master himself placed what proved a sad stum- 
bling-block in his way. 

He was one of a large crowd gathered about Jesus on 
the last day of the feast, and was listening with intense 
interest, when a question from one of the bystanders 
brought forth some very explicit statements on the subject 
of revenge and forgiveness, one sentence of which in par- 
ticular seemed to burn itself into Thoma’s mind. 

“If ye forgive not men their trespasses,” said Jesus, 
looking full at the son of Salmon, “neither will your Father 
forgive your trespasses.” 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


189 


The words were spoken kindly, but with a certain firm- 
ness which to one listener, seemed to say, “ Thoma, here is 
the condition of discipleship.” 

The latter was not one of those listeners who hear in- 
struction and apply it only to the moral improvement of 
others. He saw immediately how this teaching touched 
his own life, and found it exceedingly distasteful. It is 
possible that, in the exalted state to which the words of 
Jesus had brought him, it might have been accepted and 
some attempt made to act upon it, had not his eye at that 
moment lighted on the form of Simon, the Pharisee, stand- 
ing a little apart from the crowd, but listening with a 
supercilious smile on his thin, vice-like lips. Instantly 
the old bitter hatred and thirst for vengeance awoke in 
Thoma’ s heart. He looked again into the face of the 
teacher ; but though the latter’s glance met his, the ex- 
pression of mingled kindness and firmness was unchanged. 
Thoma’s eyes fell, but his brow remained dark. 

Was he, then, to forgive even Simon? Was he to seek 
no revenge on the oppressor of his house ? The same law 
would oblige him to extend his forgiveness to the vile in- 
former, the betrayer of Salmon to Archelaus, yea, even to 
the tyrant himself ! This could not be. What right had 
this Jesus to require him to forget the sorrows of his father 
and the guilt of his enemy? After all, could this Naza- 
rene, so self-contradictory, be the Messiah for whom Israel 
was waiting ? It was a painful struggle for the young man, 
one destined to last many a weary month before it was over ; 
the very depth and strength of his character protracted it. 

When Jesus had left the Temple, and the multitude hang- 
ing on his words had dispersed, Thoma walked on down 
the Royal Porch and over the great bridge, wrapped in his 
conflicting and painful thoughts. Once more these were 
interrupted by the salutation of John of Bethsaida, who 
had come up from behind unnoticed. 


190 


EMMANUEL ; 


“ Hail, Thoma ! what ailetli thee ? Have the uncircum- 
cised reviled the Holy City again ? ” 

“ Nay, friend, not so ; I did but think of the misfortunes 
of my father’s house.” 

“ Thou shouldest not think of thy misfortunes now, Bar- 
Salmon, but of thy opportunities ; for the day of deliver- 
ance cometh, and quickly.” 

Thoma was silent. 

John continued, “ Why joinest thou not thyself with 
us, friend? But last evening one of the great Pharisees, 
a leading member of the Sanhedrin, came to talk with the 
Master, admitting that he is a teacher come from God.” 

‘ ‘ What said thy Master to the Pharisee ? lowered he 
aught the tone of his teaching to win such a disciple ? ” 

“ Not he ; he told the other that except a man be born 
anew he cannot see the kingdom of God.” 

“ But such a thing is impossible ! ” 

“ So answered Nakdimon, — it was no less a one than he, 
— whereupon the Master said so earnestly and solemnly 
that I shall never forget the words, — 

“ ‘ Verily, verily, I say unto thee. Except a man be born 
of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom 
of God. That which is born of the flesh is flesh ; and 
that which is born of the Spirit is spirit. Marvel not that 
I said unto thee. Ye must be born anew. The wind blow- 
eth where it listeth, and thou hearest the voice thereof, but 
knowest not whence it cometh and whither it goeth ; so is 
every one that is born of the Spirit.’ ” 

“ And how did our lordly Sanhedrist receive such teach- 
ing? did he scoff?” 

“Nay, Thoma; thou knowest not Nakdimon; he, too, 
looketh for the kingdom of God. He wondered greatly, 
and asked how such things could be ; but he scoffed not. 
And, verily, there was much other discourse. Especially do 
I remember one thing said by our Master. 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


191 


“ ‘ As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness,’ 
were his words, ‘ even so must the Son of man be lifted 
up : that whosoever believeth in him may have eternal life. 
For God so loved the world that He gave His only-begotten 
Son, that whosoever believeth on him should not perish, but 
have eternal life.’ ” 

“ What meant he by that, John?” 

“ I know not altogether what he meant,” the latter re- 
plied with hesitation ; “ but that he meant that he had come 
to redeem Israel, I make no doubt.” 

Again Thoma was silent ; he felt that he could not explain 
his difficulty — the impossibility of forgiving such injuries 
as he had received — to this handsome, prosperous young 
fisherman, who had doubtless never known greater wrong 
than an exorbitant tax. Soon the two parted, — John won- 
dering if he had overestimated the earnestness of his Judaean 
friend, Thoma pondering the words of Jesus to Nakdimon, 
“ Except a man be born anew, he cannot see the kingdom 
of God.” 

“ Verily,” he said to himself, “ I think I shall have to be 
born anew before I forgive that hypocritical Sanhedrist, 
Simon.” 

The day following he searched the Temple for Jesus in 
vain ; not even a disciple of the Nazarene was to be found. 
Greatly disappointed and depressed he returned to Ephraim 
to reap his barley. In his inmost heart he believed he had 
seen the Lord’s Messiah ; but what then ? would he ever be 
able to forgive Simon ? or the informer ? or the tyrant ? 


Harvest came and we^t ; the various fruits of the land 
ripened one after another during the summer and early fall ; 
and, as month followed month, Jesus passed from place to 
place through the hill-country of Judma, proclaiming, like 
the Baptist, the great message, “The time is fulfilled, and 
the kingdom of God is at hand ; repent ye and believe the 


192 


EMMANUEL ; 


Gospel.” Unlike John, however, the Messiah did not rest 
content with pointing out the true preparation for that 
kingdom ; but led his hearers, as they were able to follow, 
into a knowledge of its very essentials. After the vintage 
the crowds about him became great, — as large, at times, 
as those thronging to the preaching of the Baptist, — and 
his fame extended far and wide ; not, as was the case with 
that of John, like the news of the new moon in former days 
leaping from hill-top to hill-top on the rays of newly kindled 
beacons, but rather like a rising sea, slow, but steady, deep, 
and widespread. Notwithstanding the demands of his 
home tasks, Thoma found many opportunities to join the 
throngs about the now noted Teacher. His admiration and 
regard increased with each visit ; his confidence in the 
Messiahship of Jesus was strengthened, not only by the 
words, but by the remarkable cures, of the latter ; yet from 
each visit he returned to his home with the despairing query, 
“ How can I forgive the oppressor of my father’s house?” 

Finally he persuaded his mother to go with him to the 
preaching of Jesus, then at Beeroth between Ephraim and 
Jerusalem, — at whose abundant fountain the Lord’s disci- 
ples were baptizing with “ water unto repentance,” in conse- 
cration for the coming kingdom. Elisabeth had not been 
eased of her malady during her stay at Ephraim, and had 
come at length to despair of ever obtaining relief. She had 
never seen Jesus, and knew of his charm of person and his 
power to cure only from hearsay ; while his rigid demand 
of unqualified forgiveness of injuries offended her quite as 
much as her son ; in consequence, her consent to visit the 
great Healer was given reluctantly, and the journey made 
with little hope of benefit. 

‘‘ Judah, have I not already tried many physicians in 
vain?” she expostulated; “and according to thine own 
word thou hast never seen this Jesus cure such an infirmity 
as mine.” 


THE STOBY OF THE MESSIAH 


193 


As was her expectation, so was the result. She acknowl- 
edged the charm of the Galilaean Rabbi, though not having 
seen the boy Jesus in the Temple, she did not so readily 
as her son trace his resemblance to the well-remembered 
Miriam of thirty years before ; but there were no cures 
wrought during the day of her stay at Beeroth, and she 
could not summon faith enough in the Teacher to overcome 
her fear of publicity. Blame her not, my reader ; she knew 
but little then of him to whom she listened. Hast thou 
never, with exceedingly greater knowledge of the Saviour 
of men, through lack of faith or aspiration, gone from his 
presence unhealed and unblessed? 

A month more passed, during which Thoma was too 
closely occupied with ploughing and sowing to leave his 
liome. When November was gone and Kislew, the cold 
month, had come, some of the towns-people returning from 
Beeroth brought word which cast a gloom over nearly the 
entire village. John the Baptist was imprisoned. Herod 
Antipas, hearing much of him, had invited him to come 
into Galilee, and even to his palace at Tiberias ; and the 
stern preacher had gone, but only to speak in the palace 
just as boldly and truthfully as in the wilderness. The 
Tetrarch heard him several times without offence, indeed 
with much interest ; but moved with a mighty indignation 
against Herod’s adultery with Herodias, his brother Philip’s 
wife, John stood forth before Antipas, in the presence of 
the gilded and voluptuous court, and proclaimed with the 
splendid fearlessness of a Nathan or an Elijah, “ It is not 
lawful for thee to have thy brother’s wife.” Then the 
wrath of the unscrupulous monarch broke forth, and John 
was seized and immured in prison without delay. It was 
only a few days, so ran the account, since the prophet- 
preacher had passed in chains over to Perma and the dun- 
geons of Machferus, that lofty, cliff-bound fortress whence 
escape there was none other than by pardon or death. 


194 


EMMANUEL ; 


The news brought general sadness to the little town ; 
for many in it had been baptized by John, and nearly all 
held him to be a prophet. Men said to each other bitterly, 
that Antipas was a true son of his father ; there could be 
no question that the blood of Herod ran in his veins. 

It was further reported that almost the last utterance of 
the wilderness preacher before his imprisonment had been 
words of testimony to him who was preaching to the multi- 
tudes at Beeroth. An unbelieving Jew, fresh from the 
preaching of Jesus, had had a dispute with the disciples 
of the Baptist about purifications. 

These, jealous for their master, had said, “ Rabbi, he 
that was with thee beyond Jordan, to whom thou hast 
borne witness, behold, the same baptizeth, and all men 
come to him.” 

‘ ‘ A man can receive nothing except it have been given 
him from heaven,” John had replied, with a lowliness 
hardly to have been expected of so bold and aggressive a 
man. “Ye yourselves bear me witness that I said, I am 
not the Christ, but, that I am sent before him. He that 
hath the bride is the bridegroom ; but the friend of the 
bridegroom, who standeth and heareth him, rejoiceth 
greatly because of the bridegroom’s voice : this my joy 
therefore is made full. He must increase, but I must 
decrease.” 

These words, with their ring of peace and quiet joy, 
were the crowning glory of a noble life, the rich sunset- 
glow of John’s declining career. 

More than ever now did Thoma desire to see and hear 
Jesus again; for it was increasingly clear that Israel’s 
hopes centred in him. As soon, therefore, as he found 
himself able to leave, he set forth once more with his face 
toward Beeroth. Scarcely had he issued from the village 
when he was hailed by a fellow-townsman coming up from 
the west. 


THE STOBY OF THE 3[ESSIAH. 


195 


“ Whither goest thou, Bar-Salmon?” 

“I go to Beeroth.” 

“ To hear the Nazarene?” 

Thoma returned a grave affirmative. 

“ Thou mayest spare thyself the trouble ; thou wilt find 
him not ; he is gone.” 

“ Gone ! ” said Thoma in dismay ; “ whither hath he 
gone, friend ? ” 

“ To the region whence he came, to Galilee. ’Tis now 
two days since he passed through Gophna on his way north.” 

“ And knowest thou why he hath forsaken Judaea? ” 

“ Nay, I know not; though some say it is from fear 
of the Pharisees. The Sanhedrin like him not over- 
much. He is making too much stir to suit our rulers ; 
they say he is moving the nation more even than did John 
himself.” 

As the days grew into weeks and the weeks into months, 
thereafter, Thoma’s longing to look again on the Lord’s 
Messiah became too strong to be resisted. Half-forgotten 
bits of teaching, beautiful and searching, came back to his 
mind ; and memories of the expression and the bearing of 
Jesus arose one after another. He felt no more kindly, 
indeed, toward Simon ; but his enemy was less in his 
thoughts than formerly; the form of Jesus of Nazareth 
was crowding him out of mind. With the return of 
spring came a new determination. He announced to his 
brother, one evening, that he was going to Galilee in search 
of the Messiah. 

“ Judah,” said Asahel after a pause, in a low but in- 
tense voice, “ I would to God that I might see this Jesus. 
He would not spurn a leper, would he, thinkest thou? 
AYonderful things are told of him ; perhaps — perhaps he 
might have help even for the son of Salmon.” 

“What, Asahel! Dost thou deem he can cure lep- 


196 


EMMANUEL ; 


The moment the words were out of his mouth, Thoma 
would gladly have recalled them at any cost ; for his 
brother shrank under them as before a physical blow. 

“ O Judah ! ” moaned the stricken man, “ thinkest thou 
then there is no hope for me?” 

Thoma had no answer to this despairing cry which he 
cared to make. 

One morning in early March the latter might have been 
seen issuing from the town on his northward way. By 
night he had passed the boundary of Samaria, leaving the 
ruins of ancient Shiloh on the right, entered the extensive 
plain just east of the watershed of the country, and 
reached, at the point where a valley comes down to the 
plain from the west, the celebrated well of Jacob, still to 
be found under the eastern shoulder of Mount Gerizim. 

On seating himself on the stone curb of the well, he dis- 
covered how weary and thirsty he was. He looked down 
at the water longingly, but it was far below his reach. 
Water had not been lacking along his route ; but he had 
been preoccupied, and had noticed it not. A little farther 
on, in the lower part of the valley, was a stream descend- 
ing from the city of Shechem, a mile or two up to the west ; 
but he did not see it, and probably would have cared little 
to drink from it, had he come to it, and perceived how it 
was defiled by the soap-factories and other industries of 
the city. 

As he looked around over the landscape, he could not but 
admit that this land of Mount Ephraim was a goodly and 
pleasant one, much more attractive than his native Judaea. 
Except eastward, not a trace of wilderness was to be seen ; 
and that bit of wilderness prospect was redeemed then by 
the green of wide pastures and the vari-coloured splendour 
of countless flowers. Elsewhere, on every side, seas of 
waving barley and wheat covered plain and valley ; while 
orchards of olives and figs, apples, pomegranates, and 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH 


197 


almouds, terrace above terrace, together with patches of 
ancient forest, mantled the mountains to their very crests. 

Presently a woman from the village of Sychar across the 
valley came to the well to draw water. At first Thoma 
paid no attention to her ; for was she not a woman, and, 
above all, a Samaritan woman? But when she had filled 
her jar, and was about to raise it to her shoulder, involun- 
tarily he cast toward the water a look of desire. At that, 
to his astonishment, the woman addressed him. 

“ Sir,” she said, “ wilt thou drink of the water? ” 

Thoma was not a Pharisee ; and, though he shared in the 
contempt of his people for the Samaritans, and wondered 
that the woman should offer him even a drink of water, he 
scrupled not to accept the proffered draught. 

“ Sir,” continued the woman, “ I perceive that thou art 
a Jew, and the time was when I would not have offered thee 
water hadst thou been dying ; but as thou didst sit on the 
well, thou remindedst me of another Jew who sat thus one 
day when I came hither to draw, — now many weeks gone 
by, — and for his sake I gave thee drink.” 

“Pray, woman,” said Thoma stiffly, “who was this 
Jew? And what is any Jew to a Samaritan?” 

“ His name is Jesus,” was the reply ; “he dwelleth in 
Nazareth of Galilee, and we are persuaded that he is the 
Messiah. Dost thou know him, sir ? ” seeing Thoma’s look 
of amazement. 

“ Dost thou know Jesus of Nazareth? ” the latter burst 
out. 

“ Yea, I do, indeed,” the woman said joyfully ; “ 1 have 
talked with him at this very well.” 

Then, the more eager to tell her story from her listener’s 
evident incredulity, she ran on, — 

“ I came hither for water at mid-day, early in the win- 
ter, — for we have no cistern, and I go not to the east well 
with the other women, — and I found here a stranger seated 


198 


EMMANUEL ; 


on the well just as thou art, sir. Seeing he was a Jew, I 
gave him no heed. But he said to me, ‘ Give me to drink.’ 
I did not give him to drink, but looked at him with no very 
good will. 

“ ‘ How is it,’ I said, ‘ that thou, being a Jew, asketh 
drink of me,- who am a Samaritan woman?’ 

“ ‘If thou knewestthe gift of God,’ he said, ‘ and who it 
is that saith unto thee. Give me to drink, thou wouldest 
have asked of him, and he would have given thee living 
water.’ 

“ ‘ But, sir,’ I answered wonderingly, ‘ thou hast noth- 
ing to draw with, and the well is deep : from whence, then, 
hast thou that living water? Art thou greater than our 
father Jacob, who gave us the well, and drank thereof him- 
self and his sons and his cattle ? ’ 

“ ‘ Every one that drinketh of this water,’ was his grave 
answer, ‘ shall thirst again ; but whosoever drinketh of the 
water that I shall give him shall never thirst ; but the water 
that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water spring- 
ing up unto eternal life.’ 

“ ‘ Sir,’ said I, mocking him, for I did not believe in his 
wonderful water, ‘ give me this water that I thirst not, 
neither come all the way hither to draw.’ 

“ But I did not mock again. 

“ ‘ Go,’ he said, looking straight into my eyes, ‘ call thy 
husband and come hither.’ 

“ I told him I had no husband. 

“‘Thou saidst well,’ he answered quietly, still looking 
into my eyes, ‘ for thou hast had five husbands ; and he 
whom thou now hast is not thy husband ; this hast thou 
said truly.’ 

“ I shrank back at those words ; who is this stranger, 
I thought, who knoweth all my life and my sin ? 

“ ‘ Sir,’ I said, not sorry to talk of something else, ‘ I 
perceive that thou art a prophet. Our fathers worshipped 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


199 


in this mountain ; and ye say that in Jerusalem is the place 
where men ought to worship.’ 

“‘Woman, believe me,’ he said most earnestly, ‘the 
hour cometh, when neither in this mountain, nor yet in 
Jerusalem, shall ye worship the Father. Ye worship that 
which ye know not ; we worship that which we know : for 
salvation is from the Jews. But the hour cometh, and now 
is, when the true worshippers shall worship the Father in 
spirit and truth ; for such doth the Father seek to be His 
worshippers. God is a spirit ; and they that worship Him 
must worship Him in spirit and truth.’ 

“ I well remember his words, but then I understood 
them not ; so I said, ‘ I know that Messiah cometh ; when 
he is come he will declare unto us all things.’ 

“ ‘ I that speak unto thee am he,’ he said quietly.” 

“Said he that to thee?” interposed Thoma somewhat 
imperatively ; for he remembered that J esus had made no 
such announcement in the Temple, nor elsewhere, so far as 
he could discover. 

“He did, indeed, and I looked at him for a moment 
in fear ; then the truth broke over me, and I believed. 
Some men came up from the village just then, — we found 
afterward they were his disciples, — and forgetting my 
water-pot I hastened back to the town with the tidings. 

“ ‘ Come,’ said I to our people, ‘ see a man who told me 
all things that ever I did ; can this be the Christ ? ’ 

“And they came out with me to the well, and heard 
him speak ; and they besought him to stop with us. Yea, 
and he abode in our city two days, and many of our towns- 
folk believe in him.” 

A few days later, at Cana of Galilee, Nathanael related 
to Thoma that part of the story of which the woman was 
necessarily ignorant. It was to the elfect that when the 
latter had gone, the disciples, after marvelling privately that 
the Master should talk openly with a woman, besought him 


200 


EMMANUEL ; 


to eat of the food they had bought ; and that he declined, 
saying, “ I have meat to eat that ye know not,” adding, 
when they questioned among themselves whether any one 
had brought him food, “ My meat is to do the will of Him 
that sent me, and to accomplish His work.” 

“ Say ye •not,” he remarked, a few minutes afterward, 
pointing to the people of Sychar beginning to stream out 
across the valley toward them, “ there are yet four months 
and then cometh the harvest? Behold, I say unto you, lift 
up your eyes, and look on the fields, that they are white 
already unto harvest.” 

Thoma listened to the woman’s narrative with deep in- 
terest. As it proceeded, the old division wall of contempt 
and hatred, shutting liim off from all intercourse with the 
Samaritans, seemed to sink from view, and to become itself 
a thing for contempt. If Jesus could mingle with these 
people and abide in their town, surely the son of Salmon 
need not hesitate to do the same. Consequently, when the 
Samaritan woman assured him that, if he w^s a believer in 
Jesus, many m Sychar would bid him welcome, he repaired 
to the town without delay ; and, finding her account of the 
place true, spent the night within its walls. 

With him, also, it was two days before he departed. 
Morning dawned only to show a leaden sky, and a cold, 
drenching storm of rain and hail, accompanied with fog, 
driving up from the south-west. That day and the next 
the storm raged ; the third day the air was clear again, the 
sky serene, and the face of nature fairer than ever. 

Learning that, if he followed the highway, he would have 
to make a detoar of the western shoulder of Mount Ebal 
through the splendid, but heathen, city of Samaria, Thoma 
decided to go over the top of the mountain, and at once 
shorten his journey and secure the prospect from the sum- 
mit. The climb proved a steep one, but he was richly re- 
paid. At his feet, as he stood on the crest, looking south, 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 201 

^ -/f ' 

— in the valley where long centuries before the vast con- 
gregation of Israel had gathered to hear the blessings and 
curses of the law, and to respond with mighty “ Amens” 
as threat and promise came to their ears, — lay the large 
and prosperous city of Shechem. Rising almost to the 
level of Ebal, across the valley, was Gerizim, the mount 
of blessings and the sacred peak of the Samaritans, on 
the summit of which, plainly visible, were the ruins of the 
temple built by them in imitation of that at Jerusalem, — a 
temple which Hyrcanus, one of the Asmonaean kings of 
Judaea, had captured and destroyed. The sight of the 
ruined temple brought back the story of the spurious, half- 
heathenized Judaism which had taken root in this fair land 
of Ephraim ; the copy of the Pentateuch altered to support 
its claims ; a chief priest secured for it by welcoming Ma- 
nasseh, the renegade brother of the High Priest at Jeru- 
salem ; the temple itself, in the days~wheiii;he-Samaritans . _ 
joined the Greeks of Antioch in relentless onslaught upon 
Judaea, dedicated, in basest subservience to Grecian mas- 
ters, to the heathen divinity Jupiter. Jesus was right; 
the Samaritans knew not what they worshipped. 

Beyond Gerizim southward was a great sea of hill-tops ; 
eastward the wilderness, broken by extensive and very 
fertile valleys, extended down to the Jordan, on the far- 
ther side of which rose the long mountain-wall of Moab, 
Gilead, and Gaulanitis, with the gleaming cone of Her- 
mon for its northern extremity ; to the west, on a neigh- 
bouring spur, splendid with the colonnades, triumphal 
arches, temple, theatres, and baths, with which Herod had 
enriched it, lay the city of Samaria, then, in honour of 
the Emperor, known as Sebaste, — the Greek equivalent 
of Augustus. Beyond Sebaste, the country descended in 
long and fertile valleys, separated by rugged, but gener- 
ally terraced, hills, to the fruitful plain of Sharon and the 
wide Uttermost Sea. Northward, however, the eyes of 


202 


EMMANUEL ; 


Thoma turned most naturally. In that direction, be- 
yond Esdraelon’s broad expanse, somewhere among those 
crowded heights, where the forest was evidently still plen- 
tiful, was the man whom he sought, the Anointed of the 
Lord. The thought spurred him to resume his jour- 
ney ; so, turning his back on Shechem and its attractive 
surroundings, he descended the mountain-side, and fol- 
lowed the watershed northward till the highway was 
gained once more. 

The next few hours led him among numberless hills, 
often capped and clothed with forests of oak and terebinth 
interspersed with occasional groves of pines, through val- 
le^^s green with growing crops, and over slopes sweet with 
marjoram and thyme, and brilliant with poppies, pinks, 
and caper plants. The last valley — a long one — brought 
him to the town of Ginasa, the ancient Engannim, and 
then out to the plain of Esdraelon and the territory of Gal- 
ilee. Pressing on still northward, he followed the river Ki- 
shon for some distance, — then a turbulent winter torrent 
and far from giving promise of the dry bed which alone 
would represent it by midsummer, — and at evening passed 
through the village marking the site of the former royal 
city of Jezreel, stopping for the night at the famous spring 
at Mount Gilboa’s northern extremity. It was that foun- 
tain of Jezreel at which Gideon and his men drank on the 
eve of the overthrow of the Midianites. 


TUE STORY OF THE 3IESSIAH. 


203 


CHAPTER XIV. 

SURRENDER WITHOUT CONDITIONS.^ 

O Master, let me walk with thee 
In lowly paths of service free ; 


In work that keeps faith sweet and strong, 

In trust that triumphs over wrong, 

In hope that sends a shining'ray 
Far down the future’s broadening way, 

In peace that only thou canst give. 

With thee, O Master, let me live ! 

Washington Gladden. 

C ERTAINLY the prospect was wonderful to a peas- 
ant from Judaea, where Nature furnished arable 
laud to the toiling husbandman, as it were, by 
piecemeal and with a niggard hand ; and Thoma, standing 
where the highway from Sepphoris and Nazareth issues 
southward from the hills of Galilee, turned about to gaze 
upon it. The prospect was that of the Plain of Esdraelon. 

If Roman rule had brought oppressive taxation to the 
land as a whole, it had certainly proved of greatest benefit 
to this fertile expanse. For almost the first time in its 
history it had known a long season of tranquillity ; not for 
many years had the tramp of hostile forces over its sur- 
face been heard, and the result was apparent. The fruit- 
ful soil, under the careful culture of the industrious ^ 
Galilaians, had burst forth into a wonderful profusion of 
products ; so that, far and wide, as far as one could see 
over the rolling surface, toward the mountains of Gilboa 
on the south-east and the rugged wall of Carmel on the 
south-west, the plain was a verdant sea of wheat and 
barley, with islands of deeper green where villages lay 




1 John iv. 43-54; Luke iv. 14-30. 


204 


EMMANUEL ; 


embosomed in orchards and vineyards. The son of Sal- 
mon began to appreciate the saying of the Rabbis, that he 
who would be rich should go north ; he who would be 
wise, come south. 

The approach of a stranger from the direction of the 
plain reminded Thoma of the journey yet before him. 
The new-comer sat astride a donkey, which also bore on 
each side a large jar of the kind commonly used for hold- 
ing the oil of olives. Presumably they were empty, since 
otherwise the animal could not have borne both them and 
his master. The stranger saluted Thoma, and inquired, 
“ Goest thou to Sepphoris to-day?” 

“ Nay, friend,” said the latter, resuming his journey, 
“ I go to Nazareth.” 

“ Ah ! I bid thee welcome to our town ; I am a citizen 
of Nazareth.” 

‘‘ Then, I doubt not, sir,” returned Thoma, walking by 
the stranger’s side, “thou knowest Jesus, the son of 
Joseph.” 

“Yea, I know him,” said the other, eying his compan- 
ion sharply ; “ Nazareth is not so large but that I know 
all that dwell therein.” 

“ Pray, sir, what say the townsfolk of him?” 

“Say of him ! they say he is a carpenter ; not a bad 
one either, — better than his father. What should they 
say of him? ” 

“ In Judaea, he is held in high honour as a great Rabbi.” 

“ Ay, the rumour of it hath reached us : a great and 
wise Rabbi he must be ! A Rabbi, indeed ! why, the 
fellow hath never learned ! One there was who went 
from our town, and studied in the academies in Jerusalem 
at the feet of the great lawyers ; he hath been ordained by 
the laying on of hands, and is a Rabbi in truth. But 
this Jesus! where hath he studied? we have a score in 
Nazareth who have been taught as much as he.” 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


205 


“ Thou sayest he hath never learned?” inquired Thoma. 

“ Oh, he hath learned all that is taught in a Galilaean vil- 
lage, and I deny not that he is not excelled among us in 
knowledge of the Scriptures ; but such knowledge doth not 
make a man a scribe. I warrant me, he will not ventilate 
his wisdom in Nazareth, where he is known.” 

“Dost thou mean that he hath not returned to his 
home?” 

“ He hath not, and I believe he will not.” 

There was a pause, and then Thoma continued, “ Hast 
thou never beheld aught remarkable in this Jesus ? ” 

“ Remarkable ! Indeed I have not ! What should there 
be remarkable in a caiq)enter of Nazareth, unless,” hesi- 
tating, “thou call it remarkable to be different from other 
men? From a boy he hath not been like those around him ; 
he was never ready to quarrel and fight with his fellows. 
Oh ! I say not but he is a good man enough — none more 
ready than he to help the widow and the fatherless, or to 
do work for the poor who cannot pay him, and, verily, all 
the children in the town know him and follow him. He 
hath cared well, too, for his own; his mother, long a 
widow, hath not known want, and his brethren and sisters 
have never lacked. But the man is different from others, 
and I fancy him not. He careth not to sit in the market- 
place, nor will he jibe with his neighbours. But he will sit 
for hours, when his work is over, and say nothing — some- 
times in his house, oftener out on the hills somewhere. 
Once at midnight, as I returned from Sepphoris, I met 
him leaving the top of the hill behind the town. If such 
things are remarkable, then he is so ; and if star-gazing 
maketh a man a Rabbi, then he is one without doubt.” 

While they talked, the two had been climbing the ascent 
of the little valley leading to Nazareth, — a small stream 
rippling over the stones below the path, — and nearing that 
expansion of it in which the village is located. The valley 


206 


EMMANUEL ; 


had the same charm to Thoma as the vales of Samaria. 
Its sides were covered with the verdure of orchards and 
vineyards and pastures^ and dotted and splashed with the 
bright colours of countless flowers, — flowers over which 
bees and great butterflies were flitting. At length the 
town itself appeared. It was a considerable cluster of 
white, flat-roofed houses, rising in terraces toward the 
north-west, and encircled by luxuriant groves of figs, olives, 
and pomegranates, through which shot those beautiful 
dwellers of Palestine, the blue roller-bird, the sun-bird, 
and the bulbul, while around the houses themselves doves 
were ‘contentedly cooing. The hills round about, though 
nowhere lofty or striking, rose some distance above the 
valley and above the town ; and through the industry of 
the villagers, who had terraced them from valley to sum- 
mit, and literally covered them with gardens, vineyards, 
and orchards, they shut in the place on every side with 
objects of quiet, domestic beauty. The scene had a soft- 
ness of outline, a freshness of colouring, and an air of do- 
mesticity and retirement about it, making it very charming 
to the stranger just from the more barren and desolate 
south. 

Thoma said nothing to his companion as they drew near 
the village ; his mind was absorbed with the prospect 
unfolding to him. This, then, was the home of Jesus, the 
Redeemer of Israel ! In these narrow streets he had 
worked, over these carefully tilled hill-sides he had walked, 
and from the surrounding summits had looked over the 
land which he had come to save. 

Presently the stranger, after pointing out the home of 
Jesus, turned aside into another street. The son of Sal- 
mon was not sorry to part company with him, for his 
disparaging references to Jesus had a depressing effect on 
his own enthusiasm. He had, indeed, seen enough of 
human nature to surmise that there was some special reason 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


207 


for the stranger’s criticisms. He was not without the sus- 
picion that it was some member of the man’s own family 
who, as a Rabbi at Jerusalem, was held to reflect honour 
on his native place, but whom Jesus, by his increasing 
reputation, had cast into the shade. 

Coming to the house indicated, on the farther side of 
the village, he was a little surprised to find it so humble. 
It was but little larger and better than his own poor abode 
at Ephraim, and was far from being of the best order of 
dwellings, even in lowly Nazareth. Its low walls were built 
of whitish limestone, dug from the very hill on which the 
village stood, and were provided with two small windows, 
less than a foot square ; while the fiat roof was supported 
by a couple of pillars in the middle of the one room within. 
So much Thoma could see from the doorway, while a 
young girl, fair of face and comely of form, talked with 
him, and vainly urged him to enter and rest aud eat. 
There was a troubled look on her face as she told him that 
Jesus had not been at his home for nearly a year, but was 
expected to return almost daily. The last they had heard 
of him ; he was off to the north-west of Sepphoris. 

Thoma, again declining all invitations to tarry, resumed 
his journey. On leaving the town, he passed by the quarry 
which furnished the villagers with building* stone, and 
which, being in the slope of the hill and almost under- 
neath the houses, made the town terminate on the north- 
east on the brink of a precipice. He gave the place a 
passing glance, little thinking how that precipice was to 
stand out in his memory in the future. 

When he had, crossed the intervening hills, and passed 
through tlie fortified gate of the proud city of Sepphoris, 
former capital of Galilee, he was very weary, having 
already made a good day’s journey, and would have passed 
^the night in the khan of the city, had it not been for the re- 
port current in the market-place, that Jesus had that day 


208 


EMMANUEL ; 


gone from Jotapata to Cana. At that, his weariness was 
forgotten, and he pressed on northward with fresh vigour. 
The sun had set, however, and darkness was beginning to 
prevail over the fruitful plain of El Battauf, when he 
reached its northern verge, and climbed the semi-isolated 
hill crowned by the hamlet known as Cana of Galilee. 

With the morning light he sought for Jesus, and found 
him without difficulty. Not one was there in Cana that 
day but knew that he who once, in their own town, had 
turned water into wine, and the fame of whose deeds had 
reached them from other towns, and even from Jerusalem 
itself, had come to their village again, and was stopping 
at the house of Nathanael. But to find Jesus was not to 
have ready access to him ; for Nathanael’s dwelling was 
filled to overflowing with visitors, and even the street in 
front, in spite of a chilling, driving mist and occasional 
showers of rain, was crowded with would-be listeners. 
Not till Jesus came out, and passed on to the market-place, 
did Thoma catch sight of him ; and even then it was im- 
possible to approach him. 

About noon, as a sick person was carried through the 
crowd, Nathanael caught sight of Thoma, and, making 
his way out of the press, greeted him cordially. On the 
inquiry of the latter, he told of the enthusiastic welcome 
which had awaited his Master at every Galilaean town to 
which they had come. In Judaea it had been a matter of 
reproach that Jesus was a Galilaean ; in the north it was 
the reverse. Besides, the men of the north were more 
practical and less devoted to dogmas, and, above all, more 
patriotic. 

“ But where are the other disciples, Nathanael? ” 

“ They went back to their fishing and other work some 
time ago. The sons of Jonah and their partners, the sons 
of Zebedee, were about to remove their business from 
Betlisaida to Capernaum. 1 doubt not thou wilt see them 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH, 


209 


all about the Master again when their labour permitteth. I 
must needs leave him myself when harvest cometh.” 

There was a stir near them. A stranger, a man of some 
importance apparently, had arrived in the town and joined 
the crowd in the market-place. He was on horseback, as 
was also the servant at his side, — a fact in itself sufficiently 
remarkable in a Jew. His clothing, by its fineness of 
texture, profusencss of ornamentation, and blue and scar- 
let hues of turban, girdle, and outer cloak, showed him 
to be a man of wealth, and one of probable Herodian 
tendencies. Dismounting, the stranger proceeded to make 
his way through the crowd with the somewhat high-handed 
manner of one accustomed to authority. 

“ Knowest thou who he is?” asked Thoma. 

“ Yea ; it is Chuza, Herod’s steward ; but what can he 
want with the Master ? I remember now that I saw him 
once among the listeners in the Temple.” 

The nobleman, after angrily overcoming the opposition 
of the multitude, gained at length the immediate presence 
of Jesus, and preferred his request, or demand more prop- 
erly ; for though his bearing changed to some extent on 
addressing the Master, yet it was lordly still. Should not 
a mere healer, however popular, be at the call of a noble- 
man and high official in the court of the monarch ? The 
request was that Jesus should come down to Capernaum 
and heal his son, then at the point of death. But courtier 
and people alike were greatly mistaken in regarding Jesus 
as primarily a healer ; nor was it his mission to work 
miracles for the gratification of either populace or rulers. 
“ Except ye see signs and wonders,” he said gravely and 
with dignity, “ ye will in no wise believe.” 

The stranger was a father as well as a courtier, and at 
the possibility of a refusal of his request, his pride melted. 

“ Lord,” he cried beseechingly, “ come down ere my 
child die.” 


210 


EMMANUEL ; 


“Go thy way,” was the instantaneous response; “thy 
son liveth.” 

The steward’s eyes met those of Jesus for a moment ; 
then, bowing low and invoking on his benefactor the bless- 
ing of God, he took his departure. Thoma was surprised 
to learn afterward that Chuza did not return to his son at 
once, but went over to Sepphoris on royal business, and 
actually spent the night there ; and that on his way to Ca- 
pernaum the day following, his slaves met him with the 
news of his son’s recovery, — a recovery beginning, as he 
had believed, at one o’clock of the day before. 

Thenceforward the courtier and his household were 
among the firm believers in the Messiahship of Jesus of 
Nazareth. 

The second day at Cana proved more inclement than the 
first. The storm swept up the broad valley from the 
Great Sea in a succession of furious showers, mercilessly 
drenching forest and vineyard and barley field, and driving 
the village-folk into their houses. In the latter part of 
the afternoon its fury abated somewhat, and Jesus, taking- 
advantage of the lull, and unmindful of the fine rain still 
falling, set out across tlie half-fiooded El Battauf plain 
for Sepphoris and Nazareth. Many of the towns-people 
accompanied him for some distance ; but when the gate of 
Sepphoris was reached, all, including even Nathanael, went 
back to their homes. The remainder of the way the great 
Teacher walked silently, and absorbed in thought, with 
only Thoma and a few homeward-bound Nazarenes for fol- 
lowers. 

The son of Salmon dropped behind, as the party de- 
scended the hill to the town. He had not dared to 
approach Jesus since the scene with the nobleman the 
day before. He was satisfied that with those few word's, 
“ Thy son liveth,” the Master had healed the boy, though 
distant nearly a day’s journey ; and such power filled him 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


211 


with awe. That he might enter the town alone, and might 
also drink of the very waters quaffed a thousand times by 
the Lord himself, Thoma turned aside into the valley, 
and stopped by the village fountain. Just then the 
departing sun, struggling through the breaking storm- 
clouds, made the white walls of the higher houses glisten 
with its light, tipped the orchards with gold, and broke in 
full splendour over the hill-sides eastward. What a fair 
and peaceful scene ! and how often must such aspects of 
it have greeted the eyes of the Messiah. And there, 
higher up to the right, was a prominent building which 
could hardly be other than the synagogue ; how often 
Jesus, as a boy, must have sat on its floor studying the 
words of the holy Law, and as man and boy alike had he 
there worshipped the God of Israel ! 

His meditations were brought to a close by the familiar 
double blast of the trumpet, without doubt from the roof 
of the chazzan’s house, announcing the near approach of 
the holy Sabbath. Twice again it echoed among the hills ; 
the last ray departed from the crest of Mount Tabor, east- 
ward, and the Sabbath was come. On his way to the 
khan he found the festive Sabbath lamps already lighted 
in the town. 

The morning of the holy day dawned clear and bright ; 
and before the hour of service the synagogue of Nazareth 
was filled to overflowing. The news of Jesus’ return had 
penetrated every corner of the village ; and, not doubting 
that the head elder would invite their now famous fellow- 
townsman to speak, old and young had come to hear him. 
They were not disappointed. 

The services at first were of the usual character. The 
men wearing their talliths, or prayer -mantles, with tassels 
carefully arranged, and the tephillin, or prayer-boxes, 
bound to forehead and left arm; the veiled women in 


212 


EMMANUEL ; 


their gallery in the rear ; and the elders in the chief seats 
in front, — all, with bare feet and covered heads, arose and 
listened with outward reverence while the opening prayers 
were repeated. 

When the time came for the first lesson, there was a 
momentary hesitation, and all eyes were turned on the 
place where Jesus sat ; at a word from the synagogue 
ruler, however, one of the elders stood up and read a few 
verses to the standing congregation. He was followed by 
several others, each reading a little and then retiring. 
Short addresses by the several readers followed ; but the 
people did not give them the usual attention. The popu- 
lar expectation was fulfilled when the chazzan, after ex- 
tracting the roll of the prophecy of Isaiah from the ark, 
hesitated as to whom to deliver it; for Jesus, looking first 
toward the chief elder, or ruler, who bowed his consent, 
arose, and, mounting the bima, and taking the manuscript 
from the chazzan, unrolled it and read, — 

“ The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, 

Because He anointed me to preach good tidings to the poor : 

He hath sent me to proclaim release to the captives, 

And recovering of sight to the blind. 

To set at liberty them that are bruised. 

To proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord.” 

When reader and audience were seated again, lie ex- 
pounded these words, pointing out graphically that their 
fulfilment was already begun. The sermon itself has not 
come down to us ; but its power is evidenced by the fact 
that even those who had come to challenge and dispute 
admitted and wondered at the gracious words “ which pro- 
ceeded out of his mouth.” Yet gracious and winning as* 
was the manner of the Lord, and noble and beautiful as 
was the sermon itself, it was destined to make very few 
converts that day ; though of those few one, and a life- 
long one, was Thoma, son of Salmon. Under the spell of 


THE STORY OF THE JIESSIAIL 


213 


the wonderful address, his last lurking doubt disappeared, 
his experience of injustice and oppression was forgotten, 
and all remaining barriers between him and unqualified 
and public adherence to Jesus of Nazareth were broken 
down. 

He awoke from his bright dream to find it quite other- 
wise with his fellow-auditors. The spirit of envy and con- 
tention, brought by the towns-people to the synagogue that 
morning, had been quieted for a time by the charm of 
Jesus’ words and manner ; but it had not been banished, 
and soon it sprang up again in full vigour. 

“Whence hath this man these things?” Thoma heard 
those about him saying one to another, with the freedom 
of speech and interruption common in Oriental assemblies. 

“ Whence hath this man this wisdom? And what mean 
such mighty works wrought by his hands ? Is not this the 
carpenter, the son of Miriam, the brother of James and 
Joseph, and of Judah and Simon? And are not his sis- 
ters here with us ? ” 

Jesus saw the change in his audience. A timid or a 
cautious man, looking over that congregation, and remem- 
bering the fierce blood coursing through those Jewish veins, 
would have deemed it wise to retire from the synagogue as 
quietly as possible ; not so Jesus. He had come to bear 
witness to the truth. He ceased speaking and faced his 
audience with a countenance in which the glow of enthusi- 
asm had departed, and firmness was deepening into sever- 
ity. He saw that they would reject his message with scorn 
if he did not work striking miracles among them, thus at 
once making doubt difficult, and giving Nazareth a preemi- 
nence in honour among the towns and cities of Galilee. 
Therefore, when next he spoke, it was in decided tones. 
These men must understand that no works would be 
wrought to gratify unworthy desires, and that such refusal 
was in strict keeping with the course of the God of Israel 


214 


EMMANUEL ; 


in the past, who had even sent His blessings to the heathen 
when Israelites were unworthy of them. 

“ Doubtless ye will say unto me this parable,” he went on : 
“ Physician, heal thyself ; whatsoever we have heard done 
at Capernaum, do also here in thy own country. Verily I 
say unto you. No prophet is acceptable in his own country. 
But of a truth I say unto you. There were many widows in 
Israel in the days of Elijah, when the heaven was shut up 
three years and six mouths, when there came great famine 
over all the land ; and unto none of them was Elijah sent, 
but only to Zarephath, in the land of Sidon, unto a woman 
that was a widow. And there were many lepers in Israel 
in the time of Elisha the prophet ; and none of them was 
cleansed, but only Naaman the Syrian.” 

At these words the gathering storm broke. Instantly 
the synagogue was a scene of wild commotion, amidst 
which Jesus only remained tranquil, looking fearlessly over 
the angry crowd. Men leaped to their feet, and, gesticu- 
lating furiously, hurled imprecations at him, and seemed 
ready to tear him to pieces. This, it was ejaculated, was 
unbearable. Was this carpenter, whom they had known 
from infancy, not only to excite their jealousy by his 
unauthorized prominence in other places, but to tell them 
publicly in their own synagogue that he proposed to con- 
tinue so to do ? In vain did Thoma struggle to reach the 
side of Jesus, and do what he could in his defence ; he was 
helpless as a child in the furious throng. Suddenly, above 
the din, rang out a murderous cry, — 

“ Over the rocks with him ! Away with such a fellow ! ” 

There was one fell rush, and Jesu», attempting neither 
defence nor escape, was dragged from the platform to the 
street, and down its length to the quarry precipice termi- 
nating it. There for an instant the angry men hesitated. 
Then Jesus, loosened from their grasp, turned and faced 
his would-be murderers. They were awed by the majesty 


THE SrOBY OF THE MESSIAH. 


215 


which shone in his face. They were cowed by his courage. 
Iniquity shrank, as it always must when it loses its first 
advantage, before the superior might of holiness. To the 
astonishment of the agonized Thoma, the Lord walked 
through the mob unmolested, the scowling men stepping 
back to the right and the left to let him pass. Without 
haste the Master moved. When he reached the outskirts 
of the crowd, for the first time in nearly a year he looked 
into Thoma’s eyes. 

“ Bar-Salmon,” he said, with a quick change of manner 
from loftiness to winsomeness, “ wilt thou not follow me 
now? ” 

With joyful awe Thoma hastened to the side of his Lord. 


216 


EMMANUEL ; 


CHAPTER XV. 

THE LAKE OF SACRED STORY.^ 

How pleaBunt to me thy deep blue wave, 
O Sea of Oalilee ! 

For the Glorious One who came to save 
Hath often walked by thee. 


Graceful around thee the mountains meet, 

Thou calm reposing sea; 

But ah ! far more, the beautiful feet 
Of Jesus walked o’er thee. 

McCheyne. 

B rightly shone the spring sunshine over the fair 
but miniature Sea of Galilee. For nearly a week 
its surface and shores had been swept by the driv- 
ing latter rains ; but on the sixth day of the week, as the 
Sabbath approached, Nature again appeared in a smiling 
mood. ^The prospect spread out before a certain Israelite 
standing near the synagogue in upper Chorazin was rare 
indeed. The neighbouring hills, where not covered with the 
black basalt boulders suprisingly abundant thereabout, 
were green with orchards or vineyards or radiant with 
floral beauty ; the deep, rock-strewn gorge far below, 
winding in intricate course down the few miles to the 
beach, was aflame with masses of scarlet oleander ; while 
southward, along the western shore of the lake, the plain 
of Gennesaret showed as a sea of verdure, known by the 
observer to be the green of flourishing crops. 

The mountain-girt lake, moreover, very different then 
from now, gave many signs that it was the centre of indus- 
trious and prosperous populations. Its sparkling surface 
was dotted with countless sails, both those of the fisher- 


^ Luke iv. 31-v. 11. 


THE STOFiY OF THE 3IESSIAH. 


217 


men and of merchant craft, and its shores were marked on 
every side with thriving cities and towns. From Chorazin 
itself, half on the lofty height, half on the declivity of the 
gorge, arose the hum of busy life ; from unseen Capernaum 
do\|\ n on the shore, swiftly moving boats were coming and 
going. The like was true of the double fishermen’s village 
of Bethsaida, at the mouth of the upper Jordan, — a village 
the eastern part of which, called in honour of the Emperor’s 
daughter, Bethsaida Julias, had been dignified with the 
name and architecture of a city since passing under the 
sway of the Tetrarch Philip. Beside these, there was 
Magdala at the southern verge of the Gennesaret plain, 
and beyond it the splendid capital city, Tiberias, recently 
erected by Herod Antipas. How sharply its marble pal- 
aces, its fine synagogue, and, alas, its heathen temple, 
stood out against the green background of the hills ! Fac- 
ing it across the lake, perched like a huge eyry on its 
mountain crag, was the fortress town of Gamala, its white- 
washed walls showing in marked contrast with the dark 
volcanic mountain cliffs of the eastern shore, — a city in 
whose strength the Galilman Jews took special pride, and 
which was afterward famous as the last stronghold, with 
the one exception of Jerusalem, to yield to the victorious 
arms of Rome. 

To the charm of the varied and beautiful scene, however, 
the observer by the synagogue of Chorazin seems unre- 
sponsive ; a frown is on his brow, and a look of abstrac- 
tion on his face. Perchance something in the landscape 
offends him. His large turban, his goltha, or Rabbinical 
cloak, as well as the long and ostentatiously arranged tas- 
sels of his outer garments, and his broad phylacteries on 
arm and forehead, mark him as a scribe, one of the 
ordained and profoundly reverenced teachers of the Law. 
Can it be that the holy man is offended by the presence 
of the two Greek towns. Hippos and Gergesa, on the lake’s 


218 


EMMANUEL ; 


eastern shore? Or is it the sight of that prosperous, but 
half-Roman, city of Tarichaea far down at the exit of the 
Jordan, or possibly a distant view of splendid but heathen 
Gadara beyond, loftily situated and adorned with colon- 
nades and theatres, which brings the frown to the brow, of 
the Rabbi, and makes him insensible to the beauty of lake 
and valley and hill-side ? 

Whatever the occasion of the Rabbi’s discontent, his 
thoughts were soon diverted by the salutation of a friend. 

“Hail, Rabbi Hakana ! the blessing of the God of 
Israel rest upon thee. What bringeth thee to Galilee 
again ? ” 

The speaker, a man like the Rabbi in middle life, also 
wore his broad phylacteries in public, and was distin- 
guished by the length of his blue* bound tassels; but in 
place of the goltha of the other, he wore the gunda, or 
peculiar robe of the Pharisees. 

“Hal is it thou, Joseph?” replied the scribe. “The 
Lord be with thee. But how now? Art thou no longer a 
dweller in Capernaum ? ” 

“ Yea, master, I abide still by the lake ; I am come to 
Chorazin to-day to secure my rights and those of my chil- 
dren.’' 

“Thy rights, friend Joseph?” 

“ Aye ; I have a debtor here who hath owed me, lo, 
these many years ; yesterday she failed to pay the inter- 
est, and I have taken her property to myself.” 

“ Thy debtor is a woman, then? ” 

“Yea, a woman, and a widow; and verily she hath 
vexed me much with her importunities. Because she is a 
widow and her children are fatherless, she would have me 
forego my just claim, and wait another month or more, 
when, she saith, she would pay me in full. But thou know- 
est how it would be. The month would go by, then an- 
other, perchance a year, and she still would pay me not. 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


219 


And all that time I would be deprived of my own. It is 
no fault of mine that her children are fatherless ; and, ver- 
ily, I have children of mine own.” 

“Quite right, my worthy Joseph ; these common people 
who know not the law are cursed. Therefore they pros- 
per not, because they know not how to please God ; and 
whom God hath cursed, shall man be bold enough to 
bless? Nay; that were to set ourselves against the Lord 
of Hosts.” 

Then, drawing nearer to his companion and speaking 
lower, “List, Joseph! I will tell thee what bringeth 
me to Galilee. Knowest thou aught of a certain Jesus of 
Nazareth, who, without instruction in the academies, and 
with no Rabbinical hand of ordination laid upon his head, 
hath set up for a teacher of the people ? ” 

“ Of a truth, the man who drove the animals from the 
Temple at the Passover a year ago. We have heard that 
he preache th in lower Galilee, where men flock in crowds 
to hear him and to witness his cures. Rumour hath it that 
he is stirring the nation more than even the Baptist.” 

“ Hearken, Joseph Bar-Eleazar, rumour speaketh aright. 
This, fellow is more dangerous by far than that mad priest 
in the wilderness. The Sanhedrin like him not ; and — 
friend, I am sent hither to watch him.” 

“ But, Rabbi, he is not here ; thou knowest he sojourneth 
in the hill-country.” 

“ Nay, but he is here. I traced him to Nazareth, — and 
verily they showed him no great favour in his own city, — 
but there I could only learn that he hath come down to the 
lake ; but now I find him not.” 

“ Thou hast inquired for him? ” 

“Thou sayest I have. He hath disciples at Bethsaida ; 
but when I went thither I found neither them nor their 
teacher.” 

“ Disciples? Dost thou speak of the sons of Jonah?” 


220 


EMMANUEL ; 


“ The same.” 

“ Thou wilt not find them in Bethsaida ; they have re- 
moved to Capernaum.” 

“Ah!” 

“ Yea, come with me, my master ; the men are at home, 
or at their work, and thou shalt ask of them what thou 
wilt.” 

The two set off without delay down the steep, boulder- 
strewn descent to Capernaum. On the way the Pharisee 
broke out, “The Sanhedrin give this Jesus no regard, 
thou sayest, Rabbi?” 

“ No regard, certainly. Who is he? what authority hath 
he ? is he not one of the am ha-arets ? ” 

“ Yea, it is as thou sayest ; but there is much interest in 
him in Capernaum. Some who saw him at the Passover 
hold him in honour as a prophet.” 

“ Oh, I doubt not I the fellow hath a ready tongue ; and 
even in the Holy City some of the unlearned have been 
misled by him. And not only so, but a few of the Phari- 
sees are in doubt about the man ; but what then ? This 
but showeth that he is the greater deceiver, and the more 
dangerous.” 

Joseph did not reply ; his eye had been caught by an 
unusual scene on the shore at his left. Soon the scribe 
saw it, likewise. 

“ What is the meaning, Bar-Eleazar,” he asked, “ of 
yonder crowd by the water?” 

“I know not. Rabbi; it hath caused me to marvel not 
a little. The people seem to be gathered around some 
teacher.” 

“ Some teacher? doth any Rabbi sojourn in Capernaum? 
Nay, I thought not. Ah ! I thank thee, Joseph ; I doubt 
not thou hast ended my quest for me. I, too, will be a 
hearer of this teacher.” 

The scribe was not mistaken ; his search was ended ; it 


THE STORY OF THE 3IESSIAII. 


221 


was Jesus who taught the multitude. His entrance into 
Capernaum, on the evening of the first day of the stormy 
week, had been unnoted ; but with the approach of the 
Sabbath, the news became known in certain friendly cir- 
cles ; so that, when on this bright morning the Master 
walked the beach eastward from Capernaum, he was fol- 
lowed by a large and increasing company. 

Thoma had lodged with his Lord on the Sabbath of the 
week before. Seated with the family on the floor, around 
the low stool on which was the dish containing the morn- 
ing meal, he had had opportunity to observe the plain and 
scanty appointments of Jesus’ humble home, — the bench 
built into the wall and running around the room, the few 
household utensils and sleeping-mats upon it, the large 
earthen water-jars by the door, the chest in one corner, 
stored with clothing and such few and simple family treas- 
ures as were not in common use, and besides these — 
nothing. 

Moreover, he had perceived from the constrained silence 
preserved by the brothers, and the troubled looks of the 
mother and sister, of Jesus, that the latter’s course was 
not approved by the young men, and not understood by the 
women, of the family. James and the other younger sons, 
while rejecting the claims and disapproving the course of 
Jesus, had been forced that day, as on other occasions,, to 
bear no small part of the opprobrium bestowed on their 
brother ; and not unnaturally a feeling of resentment had 
arisen in their hearts which struggled with their former 
regard for him. Yet, throughout the remainder of that 
eventful Sabbath, they preserved the outward forms of the 
respect which, upon the father’s decease, custom exacted 
in behalf of the eldest son. 

In the afternoon Thoma had followed his Lord up the 
hill, fragrant with aromatic plants, immediately behind and 
above the town, upon the summit of which a noble pros- 


222 


EMMANUEL ; 


pect opened to their sight. To the east and south-east, 
beyond Nazareth, rose Mount Tabor and the park-like 
forests around it, Mount Gilboa, and, beyond the unseen 
Jordan, the wooded summits of Mount Gilead ; south- 
ward the eye followed with pleasure the long wall of Car- 
mel, and the intervening, verdant plain of Esdraelon ; 
westward beyond the hills lay, in shimmering beauty, the 
wide Uttermost Sea ; while northward, after dwelling for 
a moment on colonnaded Sepphoris, the little crag-based 
hamlet of Cana, and the fruitful expanse of El Battauf 
intermediate, the gaze of the beholder was led by the suc- 
cession of hills, increasingly high, and capped with either 
forest or town, awa}^ to the lofty peaks of Lebanon and 
Hermon on the distant horizon. 

Most welcome and helpful had the quiet hours of the 
Sabbath, spent in undisturbed intercourse with his Master, 
proved to the thoughtful peasant from Judaea. So happy, 
indeed, were those hours that when, upon the disappear- 
ance of the sun below the glowing rim of the Great Sea, 
a few sick folk, bidding defiance to the general prejudice 
against Jesus, stole out of the town and besought healing 
at the Master’s hands, he could hardly forgive them the 
interruption. Fortunately for the suppliants, Jesus was 
of another temper. He laid his hands upon them and 
restored them to health, remarking at the same time upon 
the fact that so few among the many afflicted ones in 
Nazareth had faith enough to seek him. 

When, on the evening of the following day, the steep 
descent to the lake had been made, and Capernaum 
reached, there was just sullicient light left to enable 
Thoma to distinguish the fine new synagogue, situated on 
high ground, which Nathanael, who had rejoined his Mas- 
ter at Cana, pointed out as the one built by the Roman 
centurion stationed in the town, — a man whose regard for 
Israel was such that many believed he would one day 
become a proselyte. 


THE STORY OF THE 3IESSIAH. 


223 


On this fair, fresh morning, while the son of Salmon 
walked the beach with his Lord, mentally contrasting the 
beautiful lake and its populous shores with the heavy, life- 
less waters and blasted, silent environs of the Sea of Salt, 
other eyes than those of the watchful scribe from Jeru- 
salem observed the approach of the Master and his increas- 
ing audience. Two fishing-boats were drawn up on the 
shore ; in one of them two men sat mending their nets, 
the owners of the other stood by the water’s edge washing 
the slime from their seine. The men were Simon and An- 
drew, sons of Jonah, and their friend John, together with 
Zebedee and James, father and brother of the last named, 
and a few hired servants. The young men had not fol- 
lowed Jesus for some months, — but little, in fact, since his 
return to Galilee in midwinter. The lofty and searching 
moral tone of the teaching, and the quiet and peaceable 
beginnings of the work, of him who they had hoped would 
prove the Redeemer of Israel, had troubled them some- 
what ; and, while they had by no means taken final leave 
of Jesus, they had allowed their business to occupy their 
time to an extent which would probably not have been per- 
mitted had their faith been undisturbed. Now, however, 
they dropped their work and hastened forward, once more 
eager to hear the words of the Master. They were re- 
ceived with simple cordiality ; there was no reproach in 
the look and smile with which Jesus greeted them, for 
they did not yet know him and his power sufficiently to 
make doubt unreasonable or blamable. 

The crowd becoming of unmanageable dimensions, so 
that the people in their desire to hear pressed upon him 
uncomfortably, Jesus entered the boat of Simon and An- 
drew, Thoma and Nathanael following, and, after it had 
been pushed out a little, taught the people from its stern. 
About noon he sent the crowd to their homes, and turned 
to his disciples. 


224 


EMMANUEL ; 


“Put out into the deep,” he said to Simon, “and let 
down your nets for a draught.” 

“ Master, we toiled all night, and took nothing: but at 
thy word 1 will let down the nets.” 

A few vigorous strokes by the stalwart brothers carried 
the boat out into deep water ; the nets were cast, and they 
began to draw them toward the shore. Little need of drag- 
ging was there ; the nets filled with fish almost at the 
throw, and so heavy was the catch that they would not 
bear hauling aboard. Beckoning excitedly to their part- 
ners, Zebedee and his sons, in the other boat to come and 
help, the men hastened to secure the fish a few at a time. 
When the task was completed, both boats were loaded down 
to the water’s edge ; and the exclamations of astonishment, 
frequent enough at the beginning, had died away on the 
lips of the speakers, for all felt that this was more than 
an astonishing catch, — it was a miracle. Repeated and 
weary trials, only a short time before, had shown them 
there were no fish in that vicinity, and their trained eyes, 
when they made the cast, could detect no surface indica- 
tions of a school. Plainly this man from the inland vil- 
lage of Nazareth had gained his knowledge by no human 
means ; manifestly he was more than a man, — he was the 
Wonderful One long promised and foretold. But who is 
fit companion for a heavenly Being? Perceiving now, as 
never before, the real nature of his Lord, Simon cast him- 
self down before Jesus. 

“ Depart from me,” he cried, “ for I am a sinful man, 
O Lord ! ” 

“Fear not,” was the quick and kindly reply; “from 
henceforth thou shalt catch men.” 

“ Come ye after me,” he said to the sons of Jonah and 
Zebedee, on reaching the shore, “ and I will make you to 
become fishers of men.” 

Immediately the wonderful catch was forgotten, the 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


225 


claims of their business ignored ; and, forsaking all, the 
young men joined themselves to Jesus as his constant dis- 
ciples, — from that time to be perplexed often, to wonder 
yet of teller, but to doubt no more. They were among the 
first recruits of a noble army of men who have found more 
of charm in the invitation of Jesus of Nazareth than in 
the calls of all other gain or pleasure. 

On that day Thoma first became acquainted with James, 
brother of John, — a man to whom he soon became closely 
attached. James was not as handsome as John, and sev- 
eral years older, though not the equal in age of Andrew 
and Thoma. Though somewhat more grave in deport- 
ment, in his capacity for sustained and lofty endeavour, 
and in his deep earnestness and noble zeal, he was very 
like his brother. 

The afternoon the Master spent with his disciples ; but 
not the evening. When, as the sun sank below the western 
hills, and the rosy hues of its last rays died on the black 
cliffs across the water, the first of the three blasts an- 
nouncing the Sabbath rang out from the roof of the 
chazzan’s house, Jesus, now thoroughly wearied in mind 
and body, and in need of rest and spiritual refreshment, 
sent his disciples into the city with a promise of rejoining 
them there after nightfall, and departed to a secluded spot 
among the hills. It was nearly midnight when Thoma 
admitted him to the place where they were stopping. 

The Sabbath dawned dark and stormy ; the latter rains 
were not yet over. Nevertheless, the synagogue filled at 
an early hour, a rumour of the miracle having spread 
through the town, and the people being keenly desirous 
of hearing the new Rabbi, now more wonderful than ever. 
To the satisfaction of the congregation, the ruler invited 
Jesus to read the lesson from the Law, and to expound. 
Thoma had now heard several discourses from the lips of 


226 


EMMANUEL ; 


Jesus, but to the end of his discipleship he never failed to 
hear that which was new to him, and to note characteris- 
tics and aspects of his Lord before unseen or but imper- 
fectly apprehended. At Nazareth the personal charm of 
the great Teacher and the graciousness of his message 
had impressed and won him ; here at Capernaum he was 
struck by the independence and air of authority in the 
Master’s teaching. The boldness and confidence, as well 
as the loftiness, of his statements contrasted strikingly 
with the precedent-bound, formal instruction of the Rabbis, 
whose themes rarely passed beyond questions of purifica- 
tion, circumcision, and Sabbatical observance ; while, in 
regard to sanction, no statement left their lips wdiich they 
did not hasten to confirm by reference to some previous 
Rabbi, or, in lieu of that, by some Scripture passage, 
generally taken most superficially, often ingeniously 
perverted. 

The disciple from Ephraim, jealous of his Lord’s honour, 
soon perceived that this contrast with the universal and, 
indeed, prescribed mode of Rabbinical teaching was ob- 
served with astonishment, and commented on with amaze- 
ment verging on indignation, by the congregation about 
him. Such teaching was an innovation ; and innovations 
are to Orientals commonly unpardonable. 

“ Who is this,” men said to each other, “ that speaketh 
with authority? Is he, then, greater than the Rabbis who 
have gone before him?” 

“ Aye, who is he? hath he forgotten that even the great 
Hillel ventured not so much as to correct the erroneous 
spelling of an earlier teacher?” 

The people could not but recognize the majesty of the 
Master’s presence, and confess the power with which he 
spoke ; nevertheless, had not an unlooked-for interruption 
occurred, traditionalism would doubtless have carried the 
day, and they have given to Jesus the stern rebuke with 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


227 


which they would have crushed such boldness and, to 
their minds, presumption in any other teacher. The inter- 
ruption was the cry of a demoniac. One of those unfor- 
tunates, then universally looked upon in Palestine as 
possessed by demons from the lower world, had crept 
into the synagogue unnoticed. Screened from general 
observation by one of the pillars, he remained quiet for 
some time; but as the speech of Jesus deepened in ear- 
nestness, he became affected by the increasing excitement 
of the audience, and, losing all fear of the men around 
him, sprang to his feet in the sight of all, with hair 
dishevelled, eyes rolling, and mouth foaming. 

“What have we to do with thee, thou Jesus of Naza- 
reth?” he cried, shaking his arms madly at the Preacher; 
“art thou come to destroy us? I know thee who thou 
art, the Holy One of God.” 

“ Hold thy peace, and come out of him,” was the quiet, 
but stern, response. 

There was a loud cry, and the man fell to the floor in a 
convulsion ; but, to the amazement of the congregation, 
rose to his feet a moment afterward, composed in appear- 
ance, and evidently in his right mind. 

It was an astonished and awe-struck congregation which 
issued from the doors of the synagogue that morning. 

“What is this?” they said one to another. “This is 
new teaching indeed ! With authority he commandeth even 
the unclean spirits, and they obey him.” 

Even the disciples feared for the moment to come near 
their Master. 

“ Doth this amaze you?” said Jesus, as he drew near 
them. “ Verily, ye shall see greater works than this.” 

The rest of the day was spent at the house of Simon, at 
his earnest request. On arriving, it was found that sick- 
ness had preceded them. Simon’s mother-in-law, ailing 
for some days, had that morning been taken with an acces- 


228 


EMMANUEL ; 


sioii of fever which confined her to her bed. Simon lis- 
tened to his wife’s account of the trouble with what seemed 
to her a strange cheerfulness. 

“ I will tell the Master,” was his sole comment. And, 
as he told him, that smile of Jesus, rarely seen in public, 
but well known to, and afterwards most tenderly cherished 
in memory by, his friends, brightened the Lord’s face as he 
replied, rising, “ Where is she, Simon?” 

The disciple led him into the adjoining room, and Thoma 
saw Jesus take the sick woman by the hand, lift her up, 
and bid the fever leave her ; w'hereupon she came out, once 
more well and strong, and busied herself with her daughter 
in ministering to their most welcome guests. 

For some hours then the Lord had opportunity for rest 
and quiet converse with his friends. As soon, however, 
as the Sabbath was over, the moment the sun’s rays, after 
breaking through the clouds, sank from the mountain- tops 
eastward, and the Gaulanitic cliffs frowned darkly upon the 
placid lake, — that moment rest and quiet were at an end. 
Immediately the streets of Capernaum were filled with 
people — many bearing sick folk — making their way to 
the house of Simon and Andrew. The report of the cure 
of the demoniac had been carried to every household in 
the city, and many there were ardently desirous of proving 
in their own persons, or those of their relatives, the power 
of the wonderful Healer. The earnest appeals of the sick, 
and of the friends of certain demoniacs, besieged the door 
of Simon’s house ; and though these appeals utterly failed 
to recognize the true meaning of the mission of Jesus, 
they were nevertheless not made in vain. The Eedeemer 
of Israel was moved with compassion for these stricken 
Israelites, and passing among them, as they lay or stood 
in the crowded street, healed them ; thus, in the opinion of 
one observer, who soon became a disciple, verifying the 
words of the prophet, “ Himself took our infirmities and 
bare our diseases.” 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


229 


Nightfall closed the scene -before the work was nearly 
finished; and the people withdrew, with the full intention 
of returning at daybreak. But dawn brought them disap- 
pointment ; when again they gathered about Simon’s door 
Jesus had departed. His was a mission far higher than 
that of bodily healing. To this his miracles were but 
witnesses. He could not permit the people to look upon 
him as a mere wonder-worker. Before, therefore, the first 
faint light paled the eastern horizon, he had risen from his 
mat, and, leaving the house and the town unnoticed, sought 
once more the solitude of a distant hill-side, that he might 
commune with his Father, and gain fresh spiritual strength 
for the labours yet before him. And on that hill-side in the 
morning, after considerable search, Simon with his fellow- 
disciples found him. 

“ Master,” he cried enthusiastically, “ behold all men 
are seeking thee.” 

“ Let us go elsewhere into the next town,” Jesus re- 
plied without elation, “ that I may preach there also ; for 
therefore am I sent.” 

Suiting the action to the word, he led them over the hills 
to Chorazin. 


230 


EMMANUEL ; 


CHAPTER XVI. 

HOPE FOR THE HOPELESS.^ 

How beauteous were the marks divine, 
That in thy meekness used to shine, 
That lit thy lonely pathway, trod 
In wondrous love, O Son of clod! 


Oh, in thy light be mine to go. 

Illuming all my path of woe ! 

And give me ever on the road 
To trace thy footsteps. Son of God ! 

COXB. 

I MMEDIATELY after the departure of Thoma, Asahel 
was more cast down than at any time since the first 
year of his affliction. Under the influence of the re- 
ports of the great Healer who had arisen in the land, a 
secret hope for himself had grown up in his heart, and had 
become stronger than he knew, till Thoma’s incredulity 
^struck it down. Then life became dreary and hopeless 
indeed. But as the days went by, he found his thoughts 
following Thoma in his northward journey with constant 
interest ; and finally the day came when his mind, as by a 
great bound, freed itself suddenly from the spell of his 
brother’s words, and hope sprang up again more vigorous 
than ever. After all, what did Judah know of the great 
Rabbi of whom all men were talking ? Had he not con- 
fessed that, drawn as he was to Jesus, he could not under- 
stand him? Then Judah had always been too prone to 
doubt, and look on the dark side of things. Would to God 
he might see this Jesus of Nazareth for himself ! he would 
soon know then whether there was hope in him for the son 
of Salmon. 


iLuke V. 12-39. 


THE STORY OF THE 3fESSIAH, 


231 


This desire to see Jesus grew stronger from day to day, 
until at length it matured into a plan, — a plan which he lost 
no time in laying before his sister-in-law. He dreaded to 
meet his mother, every interview with her being very 
painful to each from the ever-present memories of happier 
days ; but the sweet and noble face of Tamar still had a 
charm for Asahel, and the fact that she could not see the 
work of death already wrought in him made an interview 
with her something of a solace, if not a pleasure. 

“ Tamar,” he commenced one evening, “ thou knowest 
the pasturage is abundant now, coming up to the very walls 
of the town. Thinkest thou not the boy Salmon could 
care for the flock for a w'eek or two?” 

“ Yea, Asahel, I doubt not he could. Hast thou other 
work before thee?” 

“ Not so, my sister ; but I would fain seek this Jesus of 
Nazareth, whom Judah holds to be him that should come.” 

“Thinkest thou, then, my brother,” a bright light illu- 
mining her face as she turned it toward him, “ that he can 
bring thee help ? ” 

In words it was Thoma’s incredulous question over 
again ; but its tone was that of sympathy and hope, and 
consequently it was strengthening, not disheartening. 

“ Verily, Tamar, I know not ; but I would go to him and 
see.” 

“ Then go, my brother, and the God of Israel be with 
thee.” 

So before two weeks had elapsed, Asahel the leper was 
following Thoma northward. His shepherd’s cloak of 
fleece-covered sheepskin, and his wallet filled with food, 
hung from his shoulders ; for a leper could look for 
no hospitality by the way but that of the cave in the 
mountain-side or some low-branched oak ; while as for sus- 
tenance, his proud spirit revolted from the very thought of 
accepting the alms and the abhorrence of strangers. A 


232 


EMMANUEL ; 


similar feeling led him to avoid, as much as possible, the 
towns and villages on his way, where he would be obliged 
to proclaim to every passer the fact of his hateful infirmity, 
and where men would make no effort to conceal their dis- 
gust and aversion. Consequently he clung to the wilder- 
ness ; and to him, though more from his state of mind than 
from his route, the fair hills and vales of Samaria and Gal- 
ilee possessed no such attractiveness as to Thoma. 

It was mid-day when he climbed into the little mountain 
valley of Nazareth, and drew near the town. As he 
paused before entering it, a group of labourers came up 
from below on their homeward way. His prescribed sor- 
rowful salutation uttered, Asahel stood a little aloof, and 
asked where he could find the noted Rabbi, Jesus of Naza- 
reth. 

“ What wouldest thou of the carpenter? ” one of the men 
replied. “ Art thou, too, one of his disciples? ” 

The rude jibe was received with a roar of laughter by the 
man’s companions. 

“ Thou art plainly not a disciple of his,” was Asahel’s 
angry response, “ or thou wouldest not insult even a leper 
without cause.” 

“ Thou sayest I am not, thou accursed of God ! I am 
not as thou, blessed be the Lord ! and am not to be led 
astray by any whom thou wouldest call Master, least of all 
by our upstart carpenter.” 

The men passed on into the town ; but one of them, im- 
pressed apparently with the truth of Asahel’s reply, had 
sufficient courtesy to stop and point out to him the home 
of Jesus. 

“ But thou wilt not find him,” he added, “ he hath not 
been in the town for a fortnight.” 

Reaching quickly the dwelling designated, the leper 
prostrated himself at a little distance from the open door- 
way, and uttered his woful note of warning. A young 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


233 


man, on whose strongly Jewish features a look of aversion 
was sufficiently manifest, came to the threshold. 

‘ ‘ What wouldest thou ? ” he said. 

Asahel besought information as to Jesus’ place of 
sojourn. 

“ Dost thou seek him too?” was the reply, with evident 
annoyance. “ He hath not been here these two Sabbaths 
past ; he hath gone down to the land of Gennesaret.” 

The man turned away, and Asahel went on out of the 
town, sick at heart. He could hardly have been the object 
of greater abhorrence and scorn in a town of the Samari- 
tans than in this Nazareth, the home of him in whom was 
his hope. He paused on reaching the top of the hill, and, 
throwing himself on the ground, looked gloomily over the 
broad landscape, which for his sore and despairing soul had 
little beauty or impressiveness. AThat hope could there be 
for him? AVas it not clear that the fellow-townsmen of 
Jesus, yea, even those in his own house, did not believe in 
liim? How then could he be the Messiah? What power 
could there be in him if his own people had not discovered 
it? 

“ Sir,” said a sweet, girl’s voice, breaking in upon his 
painful reverie, “ my mother hath sent me to thee with 
these, and bidden me pray thee eat and drink.” 

Looking up, he saw a fair young girl of some fifteen 
years, who was placing on the ground, a little distance 
away, a pitcher of diluted wine and a dish of bread and 
stewed fruit. Asahel’s sad heart was touched. 

“ Tell me, I pray thee, fair daughter of Nazareth, who 
art thou ? and who is thy mother that hath had mercy upon 
a leper? ” 

“ My name is Tamar,” the maiden answered, “ and my 
mother is Miriam, the mother of Jesus, and of James and 
Joseph, Judah and Simon.” 

“ Blessed is Miriam among women ! ” Asahel exclaimed, 


234 


EMMANUEL ; 


scanning the girl’s face, and not without success, for re- 
semblance to the young mother who had stopped in his 
father’s house thirty years before; “blessed is she that 
bore Jesus of Nazareth ; and blessed art thou, his sister ! ” 

The girl’s countenance, which had worn a look of trouble, 
brightened up instantly. 

“ Sayest thou so? May the Lord grant it!” Then, 
timidly and hesitatingly, “ My brethren believe not in 
Jesus ; but to my mother and to me he is the chiefest 
among ten thousand.” 

Retiring to a greater distance, and seating herself, she 
waited till her guest had satisfied his hunger ; then she 
returned with the vessels to her home, and Asahel with 
fresh hope continued his journey. 

Two days later Jesus and his disciples — seven in num- 
ber, Philip having joined them at Bethsaida — came, in the 
course of their circuit along the Galilsean shore of the lake, 
to the village of Magdala, at the southern end of the plain 
of Gennesaret. His fame and the news of his approach 
had gone before him. Scarcely had he entered the place 
before a great crowd of people was about him, most of them 
merely curious, some more deeply interested. He had 
taught perhaps an hour when a commotion arose in the 
throng. A man who at first had held himself aloof with 
covered head had come forward, and was rapidly pushing 
toward the Teacher. He had unusual success in making his 
way ; men shrank back from him on either side, for he was 
a leper. On reaching the centre of the throng, he cast 
aside the rude scarf partially concealing his ghastly coun- 
tenance and snow-white beard, and threw himself at the 
feet of Jesus. 

“Lord,” he cried in pathetic entreaty, “if thou wilt, 
thou canst make me clean.” 

Shrouded as had been the stranger’s face, and quick as 


TUB STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


235 


had been his movements, Thoma needed no one to tell him 
that the leper was Asahel. Instantly his every faculty was 
intent ; in all the multitude he saw only the two before him. 
He could not breathe for excitement as he saw his Master, 
in defiance of Rabbinical law, place his hand on Asahel’s 
hoary head, and heard the few, but gracious, words, — 

“ I will ; be thou made clean. 

He watched the pallor and the hideous scales leave his 
brother’s face, driven away by the fresh bloom of health ; 
he saw the white brows and beard change from white to 
gray, from gray to black, as of old ; and as he beheld the 
transformation complete, and saw the leper become the 
vigorous and handsome Asahel of former yeaws, he felt, 
with happiness speechless and tearful, that he had regained 
his brother. Almost before he knew it, he was kneeling 
at the latter’s side, kissing the hand of Jesus ; while Asahel, 
in his supreme gratitude, held the Lord’s feet in his em- 
brace. The Master lifted them both up, and turning to 
the elder sent him up to Jerusalem with a strict injunction 
of silence. 

“ See thou say nothing to any man,” he said ; “ but go, 
show thyself to the priest, and offer for thy cleansing the 
things which Moses commanded, for a testimony unto 
them.” 

Asahel departed as directed ; but his joy over his deliver- 
ance was too great to be contained. Forgetting the first 
part of the Lord’s charge, he hastened to tell his story to 
every one he met. Nor was his the only account to be 
handed from mouth to mouth. The bystanders were aston- 
ished beyond measure at a miracle the like of which had 
not been seen since the days of Elisha, and were quick to 
carry the story in all directions. A minority, mostly 
Pharisees, certainly condemned the act. 

“ Ah ! ” they said, but he touched him ; he is defiled ; 
why doth a Rabbi thus break the law ? ” 


236 


EMMANUEL ; 


But critics as well as admirers spread the news abroad ; 
and so great was the excitement that Jesus, unwilling to 
bring about popular demonstrations either for or against 
himself, avoided for some days all the towns in the vicinity, 
and, with the changing multitude attending him, remained 
without in the uncultivated parts of the neighbouring 
mountains. 

When, some ten days later, Thoma met his brother 
again in the Temple, and asked why he had disobeyed the 
express command of silence laid upon him, the inquiry 
came to the latter with a shock. Had he, then, been guilty 
of disobedience and ingratitude ? had he interfered with the 
plans of the Master? Immediately he went to Jesus, and 
dropping before him confessed his fault, and was graciously 
received and forgiven. 

The touch of the leprous head of Asahel which had occa- 
sioned the criticism of the Pharisees, though it had surprised 
Thoma, had not troubled him ; with him the spell of Rab- 
binism had long been broken. On the contrary, that touch, 
with the tender look going with it, had been a fresh revela- 
tion of the spiritual beauty of his Lord ; for it showed that 
the latter was ready to break with human traditions and 
incur the condemnation of men, if thereby sympathy and 
love could be made more real to a heart in need. More- 
over, another joyous thing had happened for him ; a broad 
rift had been made in the dark cloud of inscrutable 
providential dealings, — a rift through which came a glad- 
dening ray from a bright beyond. One question was 
settled : the Messiah was able to overcome even such ills 
as those of his father’s house. If the Lord, by a word and 
a touch, could so transform his brother, and free him from 
the most relentless of maladies, what could he not do? 
Here was one able to save to the uttermost ; able not only 
to right wrongs, but to banish disease and calamity ; and — 
who could tell? — perhaps even the human heart would 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


237 


prove subject to his gracious power. Thoma’s heart now, 
as distinguished from his judgment and admiration, was 
won unreservedly to his Lord. Henceforth, let Jesus 
demand what he would ; let him call for the forgiveness of 
any one, however cordially detested, and the demand would 
be honoured ; for his sake the pardon would be granted. 
Henceforth, though the son of Salmon might not under- 
stand, he would still believe ; though his Master’s course 
might perplex him, he would follow his leading neverthe- 
less. 

The man’s slow, questioning mind did not ‘come to this 
firm conclusion any too soon ; very shortly his faith was 
put to a new and severe test. After a few days Jesus 
ventured one evening to return to Capernaum, that he 
might be at hand when the Passover caravan was formed. 
His arrival was soon known throughout the town, and a 
crowd gathered the very next morning to hear him, filling 
the house to overflowing. Not only the towns-people came, 
but curious visitors from the neighbouring regions of 
Galilee, the districts beyond the lake and east of the Jor- 
dan, Pharisees from various places, and even Rabbis — 
newly arrived colleagues of Hakana — from Judaea and 
Jerusalem. Neither Jesus nor his hearers were ignorant 
of the presence of the last named ; for beside the peculiari- 
ties of their attire, and the superfluous wearing of phylac- 
teries outside of the synagogue, there was a pride manifest 
in their mien, and an air of exclusiveness, which sufficiently 
identified them. 

A would-be leader at all lacking in courage would cer- 
tainly have reserved the bolder and more revolutionary 
portions of his teaching for other hearers and another 
occasion ; a teacher who valued success above sincerity 
would have seized this opportunity to win by pleasing words 
these recognized leaders of the people, who as friends might 
prove powerful allies, as foes would certainly be formidable. 


238 


EMMANUEL ; 


Not so Jesus. He taught the people in his usual manner, 
simply, fearlessly, and without reference to Rabbinical 
authorities, Halakhah or Haggadah. His hearers listened 
intently, though not all with approbation, the countenances 
of the scribes and Pharisees being darkened with frowns. 

In the midst of the discourse there was an unlooked- for 
interruption. The sound of feet was heard overhead, fol- 
lowed by that of digging ; then the air of the room was 
filled with stifling dust, as a portion of the roof was torn 
up, and a long opening made in the ceiling. When the 
dust had settled in part, four men were seen standing over- 
head, supporting by the four corners of his mattress a sick 
man who sought healing at the hands of Jesus. His bear- 
ers had been unable to gain entrance at the door, because 
of the dense crowd ; consequently, they had mounted the 
outer stairway and, regardless of the comfort of those 
within, had dug up a part of the earth and mortar roof, 
turning back the brush underneath. Without a word the 
men kneeled down and lowered the afflicted man, a para- 
lytic, through the opening till he lay within the reach of 
Jesus. The latter looked upon him kindly, and saw at 
once his real state and his unvoiced wish. He perceived 
that the paralytic, still a young man, had come to repent 
bitterly the sins of his past, the penalty of which he was 
then suffering. 

“ Son,” he said therefore, in low, sympathetic tones, 
“ thy sins are forgiven.” 

The words were heard by every one in the room, the be- 
holders being in a state of hushed expectancy. There was 
a significant movement among the Rabbis, an interchange 
of indignant looks, and a performance of pious gesticula- 
tions, which Jesus had no difficulty in interpreting. They 
were saying within themselves, some of them muttering, 
“ Why doth this man thus speak? He blasphemeth ; who 
can forgive sins but one, even God? ” 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


239 


“What reason ye in your hearts?” demanded Jesus, 
with quiet severity. “ Whether is easier, to say. Thy sins 
are forgiven thee ; or to say. Arise and walk ? But that ye 
may know that the Son of man hath authority on earth to 
forgive sins,” turning to the sick man, “ I say unto thee, 
Arise, and take up thy couch, and go unto thy house.” 

A thrill passed through the paralyzed form ; the insubor- 
dinate muscles owned once more the sway of the mind ; 
and, pausing only to bow before his benefactor and em- 
brace his feet, the healed man took up his small mattress, 
and went out through the throng, glorifying God for his 
restoration. The people, also, again greatly astonished, 
ejaculated many benedictions upon the God of Israel. 

“ We have seen strange things to-day,” men said as 
they dispersed. “ Not all we heard of John could equal 
this.” 

Thoma was of the same mind as regarded the miracle ; 
but he was troubled nevertheless. Was not the muttered 
criticism of the Rabbis right? Who could forgive sins but 
God? True, it did seem as impossible to heal the sick by 
a word as to forgive sins by a word ; but the question still 
remained. Who could forgive sins but God? Not till over 
two years had passed away was the persistent question an- 
swered, and Thoma perfectly satisfied, that though the 
scribes were right, yet the Messiah had power to forgive 
sins, and did forgive them. 

Another thing happened that day to perplex the reflecting 
disciple from Ephraim. Jesus went out with his followers 
toward evening to walk on the beach, a crowd attending him 
as usual. On nearing the water they passed the place 
w'here a publican was seated for the collection of the cus- 
toms on goods coming from over the lake. Thoma had 
seen the man more than once in the throngs waiting upon 
the Master ; but, in common with the other disciples and 
true Jews generally, he had despised him and shunned him 


240 


EMMANUEL ; 


as a sinner and a traitor, a renegade battening on the spoils 
of his countrymen. That the man was of good Jewish 
family, and a Levite, did not make the matter any better ; 
indeed, it made his defection only the less excusable. It 
was, therefore, greatly to Thoma’s surprise and perplexity 
that Jesus stopped before this man, and said with gentle 
authority, “Matthew, follow me.” 

Without delay, however, the man rose up, a joyful light 
breaking over his strong, Hebrew features, and went with 
them, close to the Master’s side. 

Moreover, the next day, to the dismay of his disciples, 
Jesus actually accepted the invitation of this Levite pub- 
lican to partake of a feast made in his honour, to which, 
among others, had been invited many of Matthew’s obnox- 
ious fellow tax-gatherers. How could the Messiah fraternize 
with these sinful men? was the perplexing query of the 
son of Salmon. With a mind so troubled, he was ill-pre- 
pared to meet the ready cavil of the sharp-eyed scribes, 
who hoped now to discredit Jesus by turning his disciples 
from their allegiance. 

“ He eateth and drinketh with publicans and sinners ! ” 
they exclaimed in real surprise and affected dismay. 

“ They that are whole have no need of a physician,” 
was the quietly sarcastic comment of Jesus, who had over- 
heard the remark, “but they that are sick. I came not 
to call the righteous but sinners to repentance.” 

These words kept coming to Thoma through the even- 
ing hours until sleep closed his eyes ; and the more he 
thought of them, the more their gracious meaning became 
clear to him, and dispelled his troubled questionings. That 
the Pharisees as a class should be too self-righteous to 
heed the call to repentance, and that consequently the 
Messiah had not come for them, did not surprise him ; nor 
was it a new idea that the nation must repent before that 
righteous people over which the Messiah was to reign could 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


241 


exist ; but heretofore, despite the fact that penitent publi- 
cans and harlots had been received by the Baptist, he had 
failed to see the consequent and blessed truth that to every 
son of Abraham who would repent, however great a sinner, 
— even such as this publican, — the door of the kingdom 
of heaven was open. Now, however, the light of the Gos- 
pel was finding its way into his mind, so that before he 
slept he said to himself, if the Master knew this Matthew- 
Levi to be truly contrite, who was the son of Salmon that 
he should bid him stand aloof? 

A somewhat cavilling query soon afterward addressed to 
Jesus by the disciples of the Baptist caused Thoma little 
trouble. 

“ lYhy do we and the Pharisees,” it ran, “fast oft, but' 
thy disciples fast not?” 

Fasting as a religious exercise was then held in high 
esteem. Though Moses had enjoined but one fast in the 
year, that on the Great Day of Atonement, the Rabbis had 
added a multitude of such exercises, with the idea that 
they were especially meritorious, and tended to make one 
the recipient of divine revelation. 

“ Can the sons of the bride-chamber fast,” said Jesus, 
with quite another view of the matter, “ while the bride- 
groom is with them? but the days will come when the 
bridegroom shall be taken away from them, and then will 
they fast.” 

Much of this reply was incomprehensible to Thoma, as 
likewise was the declaration of the Master immediately 
following, that “ no man putteth new wine into old wine- 
skins,” lest it burst the skins and be spilled. He could 
not surmise what were the days when the bridegroom 
should be taken from them ; neither could he know liow 
widely different the wine of the new life of the Gospel was 
from that of later Judaism, and how impossible of restraint 
within the worn-out wine-skins of Jewish forms ; but he 


242 


EMMANUEL ; 


felt instinctively that in Jesus there had come to Israel, 
not only a new Teacher, but a new power, which would 
naturally manifest itself in new ways. 

The Sanhedrist representatives — Rabbi Hakana fore- 
most — grasped the Lord’s meaning quite as clearly as the 
son of Salmon. To them the words of Jesus amounted to 
a declaration of war. 

“ So then,” they muttered under their breath, “ this 
upstart, called by the people Rabbi, hath no mind to earn 
a claim to the title by following and inculcating the tradi- 
tions of the elders. His is to be a new doctrine, a new 
system. We will see whether an untaught and unrecog- 
nized Galilaean will be able to lead Israel away from the 
religion of the fathers.” 


TUE STORY OF THE MESSIAH, 


24B 


CHAPTER XVII. 

JESUS AND TUE SABBATH.^ 

The Sabbath was made for man, and not man for the Sabbath. — Mark li. 27. 

T here was no immediate open conflict between Jesus 
and his critics, the Pharisees and their scribes ; the 
former departed with the Passover caravan for 
Jerusalem, and the latter preferred first to make their 
report to the leaders of the party at Jerusalem. 

In the feast Jesus at first took no conspicuous part. 
Whenever he taught in the Temple prominent Rabbis and 
other Sanhedrists gathered about him with his other 
hearers, and listened with supercilious countenances. It 
was evident that an open breach could not long be averted ; 
even a trifling occasion might bring it about. The occa- 
sion arose very shortly, but in the eyes of the Pharisees it 
was far from trifling. 

It was the Sabbath, and Jesus was going to the Temple. 
On the way he passed by the large pool of Bethesda near 
the sheep-market, — one of many supplying the poorer 
classes with water. The pool was subject to changes of 
level, the water at times rushing into it from below with 
considerable force, at once discolouring the contents of the 
pool, and increasing their volume. At these times, accord- 
ing to tradition, the waters of Bethesda were possessed 
with wonderful curative powers. Later report ornamented 
the original legend by ascribing the rush and stir to the 
descent of an angel into their depths. Around the pool, 
by the gifts of the charitable, and of former rulers, five 
porches had been built for the protection of the sick from 


1 John V. 1-47; LxUce vi. 1-11. 


244 


EMMANUEL ; 


the merciless rays of the sun while waiting for the stirring 
of the water. It was in one of these that Jesus, as he 
passed, saw, lying on his sleeping-mat, one hopelessly ill 
with a disease of thirty-eight years’ standing. The piti- 
able state of the man touched the Master’s heart. Jesus 
stopped, and asked gently, “ Wouldest thou be made 
whole?” 

“ Sir,” said the sick man, looking up piteously, “ I 
have no man, when the water is troubled, to put me into 
the pool ; but while I am coming, another steppeth down 
before me.” 

Jesus said, “ Arise, take up thy bed and walk.” 

With a startled look the man obeyed ; and, trembling 
wdth eagerness and joy, rolled up his mat and departed 
into the city. Very few noticed the brief colloquy and 
the instantaneous cure ; and before those few could re- 
cover from their amazement, Jesus had gone on, and dis- 
appeared in the human stream pouring into the Temple. 
In the mean time the man had not gone far on his 
homeward way when he was surrounded with frowning 
Pharisees. 

“It is the Sabbath,” they said sternly; “it is not 
lawful for thee to take up thy bed.” 

“ He that made me whole,” stammered out the restored 
man, in abject fear of his critics, “the same said unto 
me. Take up thy bed and walk.” 

A gleam of suspicion passed over the countenance of 
one of the Pharisees. 

“ Who is the man,” the latter demanded sharply, “ that 
said unto thee. Take up thy bed and walk?” 

But this the man could not tell. A little later Jesus 
found him in the Temple. 

“ Behold,” said the Master to him warningly, “ thou 
art made whole ; sin no more, lest a worse thing befall 
thee.” 


'THE STORY OF THE 3fESSIAn. 


245 


But the warning was unheeded. Knowing that he was 
under suspicion, and subject to condemnation for Sabbath- 
breaking, the cured man, in his craven desire to free him- 
self, had no thought for his benefactor, but sought out the 
Pharisees, and disclosed his name to them. Great was 
the consequent anger of the Jewish purists. With some, 
doubtless, there was real offence at the supposed profana- 
tion of the day ; with all there was deep indignation at 
this defiance of Rabbinical authority. 

“ This man,” they said, “ this upstart teacher, must be 
made to answer for his transgressions ; he must not be 
permitted to go on misleading the people.” 

The}^ were not long in surrounding the object of their 
wrath, as he taught in one of the cloisters. 

“Yea, I did heal the man as ye say,” was the calm 
return, when their accusation had been made. “ My 
Father worketh until now, and I work. There is idleness 
neither for Him nor for me.” 

The incensed Pharisees looked at each other in utter 
amazement. What did this Galilman mean? could it be 
God that he referred to as his Father? 

“Verily, verily, I say unto you,” continued Jesus, 
seeing that his meaning was at least partly grasped, “ The 
Son can do nothing of himself, but what he seeth the 
Father doing: for whatsoever things He doeth, these 
the Son also doeth in like manner. For the Father loveth 
the Son, and showeth him all things that Himself doeth.” 

Neither Pharisees nor disciples understood the discourse 
that followed, in w^hich Jesus defined his relation to the 
Father ; but while the former heard it with angry incre- 
dulity, the latter listened, with perplexity indeed, but with 
wondering interest also. On many a subsequent day did 
Thoma ponder the strange words ; and, though his thoughts 
did little but fix them in his mind, and he was obliged 
finally to place them in the category wdth other inexpli- 


246 


EMMANUEL ; 


cable utterances of his Master, yet he did not doubt that 
there was a meaning to them at once profound and won- 
derful. 

Toward the close Jesus changed the tenor of his address, 
and criticised the Pharisees for their refusal to believe in 
him ; and then friend and foe alike followed him much 
more readily. Particularly did Thoma remember, in after 
days, the fearless and earnest look of his Lord as he 
turned to the Rabbis in direct approval. 

“ Ye have sent unto John,” were his words, “ and he 
hath borne witness unto the truth. . . . He was the 

lamp that burneth and shineth ; and ye were willing to 
rejoice for a season in his light. But the witness that I 
have is greater than that of John ; for the works which 
the Father hath given me to accomplish, the very works 
that I do, bear witness of me, that the Father hath sent 
me. And the Father that hath sent me, He hath borne 
witness of me. Ye have neither heard His voice at any 
time, nor seen His form. And ye have not His word 
abiding in you ; for whom He sent, him ye believe not. 
Ye search the Scriptures because ye think that in them ye 
have eternal life ; and these are they which bear witness 
of me ; and ye will not come to me that ye may have 
life. , . . Think not that I will accuse you to the 
Father; there is one that accuseth you,- even Moses, on 
whom ye have set your hope. For if ye believed Moses, 
ye would believe me ; for he wrote of me. But if ye 
believe not his writings, how shall ye believe my 
words ? ” 

From that day, the breach between Israel’s Messiah and 
the teachers and ecclesiastical rulers of the people was 
open and complete. 

In the little one-roomed dwelling of Thoma at Ephraim, 
Elisabeth and her daughter-in-law were growing anxious 


THE STOBY OF THE MESSIAH. 


247 


over the prolonged absence of the male members of the 
family. The time for beginning the barley harvest had 
arrived, and Elisabeth began to fear Thoma would not be 
back in time to care for his crop. Moreover, she felt no 
little anxiety lest some evil should have befallen Asahel. 
Life, indeed, did not seem a desirable thing to a leper ; but 
Elisabeth could not forget that her stricken son had once 
been the pride and joy of her life. 

One evening, just before sunset, at the end of the Pass- 
over week, to the great joy of the two women, little 
Rachel, oldest daughter of Thoma and Tamar, and almost 
a reproduction of her mother in beauty and grace, burst 
into the room with the excited announcement that her father 
was coming and a stranger with him. The elder woman 
looked inquiringly at her daughter, whose face was bright 
with pleasure. Could it be that Thoma had brought his 
Teacher, the great Rabbi, with him to his humble home ? or 
was it some fellow-disciple? Surmise was quickly ended; 
for the door was thrown open, and Thoma and the stranger 
stood on the threshold. Elisabeth gazed at them in 
speechless astonishment, Tamar, meanwhile, with ex- 
tended hands, advancing toward her husband. It was 
not until Asahel entered the room, and said in the old, 
well-known voice, “ My mother, knowest thou not thy 
son?” that Elisabeth could believe her eyes. Then she 
sprang to her feet, and threw herself into her son’s arms. 

O Asahel ! my son, my son ! ” she cried, her emotion 
then choking further utterance. 

Tamar, at her husband’s side, listened with a puzzled, 
inquiring expression. Before Thoma could explain, Elisa- 
beth lifted her head, and gazed fondly into Asahel’s face, 
a bright look shining through her tears. 

“ O my son, my son ! ” she said, “ thou hast found the 
Messiah indeed. Blessed be the God of Israel, who hath 
visited his people. Would to God thy father had lived to 


248 


EMMANUEL ; 


see this day! And, Asahel, I would not believe in him. 
Take me to him, my son, that I may bow before him, con- 
fess my sin, and kiss his blessed feet.” 

“Yea, my mother,” broke in Thoma, “ thou shalt go to 
him of a truth, that thou, too, mayest be made wdiole. 
No disease is there too great for his power. And thou, 
my Tamar — thee, also, will I lead to him that he may 
bring light into those darkened eyes.” 

But Tamar, unable to see the transformation in Asahel, 
was only bewildered by the excitement around her. Not 
until, seated on the floor, the brothers had recounted their 
experiences during their absence, did the full extent of 
the blessing brought to them by the Christ become known 
to her. As for Asahel’s story, it had to be related over 
and over before the family laid themselves down to sleep ; 
for the news of his return had spread through the town, 
and with one accord the people flocked into the house to 
see and interrogate the cleansed leper. 

Happy were the ensuing days to the family of Thoma, 
cheerful the hours of labour in the harvest field : happy 
were they, because of the great good already come ; happy, 
also, in strong hope of others to follow. The barley har- 
vest over, it was agreed that Thoma should return to 
Galilee, and rejoin the Master, who had called him to 
discipleship ; while Asahel, whom his mother could now 
hardly endure out of her sight, should remain at home, 
and gather in the wheat. At the first good opportunity 
the former was to return and tell them — or send them 
word — where Jesus was to be found, that Asahel, the 
harvest work being over, might go forth with his mother 
to meet the great Physician. Tamar could not be induced 
to go with her mother-in-law ; she did not doubt the power 
of the Messiah, but, she maintained, she could not leave 
her little children. She would wait till Jesus came again 
into J udaea, and then seek him. 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


249 


“ I have walked in the dark,” she said, “ these many 
years, despairing of deliverance ; surely a few months or 
more of hope will not seem long to me.” 


“ Yea, Bar-Salmon,” said James to Thoma, soon after 
the latter’s arrival at Capernaum, “ thou wilt find many of 
the same Rabbis who accused the Master in the Temple 
dogging his steps here in Galilee. Behold, wheresoever 
he goeth, they go.” 

Thoma saw the truth of this statement the next day 
afterward, which happened to be the Sabbath. Early in 
the morning, before the synagogue service, and conse- 
quently before the morning meal, — the latter being 
required to follow and not precede the former, — Jesus 
went out with his disciples for a walk through the fields 
of wheat around the town ; and forthwith the strangers 
from the Holy City followed, regarding him with hostile 
scrutiny, intent upon discovering whether he would extend 
his ramble beyond the permitted two thousand cubits. 
The wheat in that deep basin was farther advanced than 
up in the hill-country, and even then ready for the sickle ; 
in consequence, the disciples, having by this time followed 
Jesus long enough to catch something of his spirit, espe- 
cially as regarded purely formal matters, began as they 
passed along to pluck the grain and eat it. This they did, 
knowing that, though on any other day it was expressly 
allowed by the law, it was strictly forbidden by tradition- 
alism on the Sabbath, the Rabbis holding that the plucking 
was a form of reaping, and the rubbing a form of thresh- 
ing ! Instantly the lynx-eyed scribes were round about 
them. 

“ Behold,” was the Sanhedrists’ triumphant demand of 
the Master, “ why do they on the Sabbath day that which 
is not lawful?” 

It is difficult, even for those acquainted with the Puritan 


250 


EMMANUEL ; 


Sabbath, to realize the fanatical reverence of the Jews for 
their holy day ; the degree of severity and punctiliousness 
to which, under the leading of their Rabbis, they had 
carried its observance, and the puerile refinements and 
distinctions which they had elaborated in regard to it. 
The day had become one of the cardinal points of their 
religion, its observance being considered the distinguish- 
ing characteristic of their nation ; and Israelites had under- 
gone untold sufferings — even perished by thousands — 
rather than desecrate its sacred hours. The inculcation 
of precepts concerning it was a principal topic of Rabbin- 
ical teaching, — indeed, Israel was said to have been 
created for the express purpose of keeping it, and its 
obligation was held to have prevailed in full strictness 
from all eternity and throughout the universe ! Not only 
was ordinary labour forbidden, but even to kindle or extin- 
guish a fire was prohibited ; nor was one permitted to give 
medicine, or to set a broken bone ; neither could the 
smallest amount of food be prepared, nor the lightest 
burden borne, though nothing more than a handkerchief or 
a needle, — the few exceptions to this rule being that of 
food less in bulk than a dried fig, water sufficient to make 
eye-salve, and other such trivialities. 

An institution thus precisely defined, supported by 
fanaticism, and enshrined in the national heart, only a 
blind and foolhardy man, or one of rarest strength and 
courage, would attempt to modify or overthrow. Yet 
with full knowledge of the power which he must face, 
Jesus set himself to overthrow entirely the foundation on 
which this institution was commonly based. That founda- 
tion was the alleged holy character of the day itself, apart 
from any benefits, spiritual or physical, which it might 
bring to man. 

To the haughty demand of the scribes, Jesus replied 
with a dignity that was not without its effect. He began 
with sarcasm. 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


251 


“ Have ye not read even this,” referring to their bound- 
less assumptions of learning, “what David did when he 
w^as an hungered, he and they that were with him ; how 
he entered into the house of God, and did eat the shew- 
bread, which it was not lawful for him to eat, neither for 
them that were with him, but only for the priests? Or 
have ye not read in the Law, how that on the Sabbath day 
the priests in the Temple profane the Sabbath, and are 
guiltless? But I say unto you that one greater than the 
Temple is here. But if ye had known what this meaneth, 
I desire mercy and not sacrifice, ye would not have con- 
demned the guiltless. The Sabbath was made for man, 
and not man for the Sabbath ; so that the Son of man is 
Lord even of the Sabbath.” 

The proud Rabbis were at a loss what to reply ; they 
had not expected to encounter such knowledge of the 
Scriptures. It is hardly necessary to add that they were 
not in the least convinced, and that their inability to con- 
fute their antagonist rendered his words only the more 
galling. They retired for the time, with outward scorn 
and inward discomfiture, to await a new and better oppor- 
tunity for challenge and controversy. 

As for the disciples, w'hose conduct had just been vindi- 
cated, they rejoiced over the chagrin of their critics, even 
while they were perplexed by some things that the Lord 
had said. Thoma was startled at first at the bold declara- 
tion, “ The Sabbath was made for man, and not man for 
the Sabbath.” It seemed utterly revolutionary ; but as he 
came to grasp it, he not only accepted it, but rejoiced in 
it. It was only one of many instances in which words of 
the Master, at first startling, perhaps incomprehensible, 
proved afterward most helpful. The son of Salmon had 
never doubted that religion was supremely important. 
Since his adherence to Jesus of Nazareth he had come to 
see that it miglit be also supremely noble and beautiful and 
even delightful. 


252 


EMMANUEL ; 


In the synagogue that morning there was a great crowd, 
called thither by the news of Jesus’ presence in the city ; 
and in prominent positions, as a matter of course, were 
the proud delegation from the Sanhedrin. It was not 
until the Sabbath a week later, however, that the keen- 
eyed critics found a case that seemed to furnish the desired 
trap for the opponent whom now they not only hated but 
feared. On entering the synagogue, in which Jesus was 
expected to speak, they saw there a certain man whose 
right hand was withered, and immediately arranged with 
their Pharisee supporters that some of the latter, in case 
the man himself did not apply for healing, should call the 
attention of Jesus to his pitiable condition. The plotters 
congratulated themselves that the obnoxious teacher would 
thus be obliged, either to weaken his influence with the 
people by refusing to heal the man, or to furnish a new 
ground of accusation against himself. According to pro- 
gramme ^ therefore, as Jesus was closing his discourse, one 
of the Pharisees, with a gesture toward the afflicted man, 
demanded, — 

“ Is it lawful to heal on the Sabbath day ? ” 

There was a certain heartless cunning in the question. 
Plainly they cared nothing for the man, would, indeed, be 
perfectly content should he carry his withered hand down 
to the grave ; he was an object of interest to them solely 
as he might furnish the means for entrapping a hated op- 
ponent. 

“ Stand forth,” said Jesus to the sufferer. 

“ I ask you,” he demanded sternly, looking around with 
indignation and grief at such hardness of heart, “ is it law- 
ful on the Sabbath day to do good or to do harm ? to save 
life or to kill ? ” 

None of the Pabbis had a reply ready. 

“ What man shall there be of you,” the Lord went on, 
“ that shall have one sheep, and if this fall into a pit on 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


253 


the Sabbath day, will he not lay hold on it, and lift it out? 
How much then is a man of more value than a sheep ! 
Wherefore it is lawful to do good on the Sabbath day.’’ 
Then, turning to the man, “ Stretch forth thy hand.” 

As in every such instance in the life of Jesus, the needed 
power accompanied the command ; the man attempted to 
follow the apparently impossible mandate, and, behold ! 
the arm obeyed his will, and was found to be sound and 
strong like the other. 

The Pharisees, great and small, left the house in a rage ; 
not so much because they deemed the Sabbath desecrated, 
as because Jesus had left them without the power of reply 
or criticism, — confuted and put to shame in the eyes of 
the people. Certainly it would seem that, if Rabbinism 
was to be saved, it was time to bestir themselves. 

The degree of their rage was shown by the fact that they 
immediately proceeded to consult with their arch enemies, 
the Herodians, how the two parties might make common 
cause for the destruction of one who seemed about to turn 
the world upside down. The Herodians had little reason 
to relish the teaching of Jesus. Its loftiness, its purity, 
and its intolerance of iniquity rendered it extremely un- 
palatable to the worldly and unprincipled courtiers of 
Antipas, — a monarch equally noted for his craft and his 
licentiousness. But the machinations of both parties were 
fruitless ; for the time the new Teacher was too strong for 
them. So long as Jesus would work miracles, and keep 
alive the hope that he was the promised Liberator, so long 
he was secure of popular support, and beyond the power of 
Pharisee or Herodian. Unfortunately this widespread re- 
gard for Jesus did not mean that traditionalism was gmng 
place to the kingdom of heaven. The people were drawn 
far more by the mighty works of Jesus, and by their 
national hopes in connection with him, than by any teaching, 
however exalted or profound. 


254 


EMMANUEL ; 


Knowing full well that, in every community, those who 
sought to understand, and those who, understanding, were 
willing to accept his doctrine, were few, Jesus made it his 
practice to pass from place to place, preaching in many 
places, hut rarely remaining long in one. On one of these 
tours into the surrounding country an incident occurred 
which made an abiding impression on Thoma. The way 
lay for some distance along the bottom of a rocky defile, 
between lofty and precipitous cliffs, whose frowning fronts 
often seemed about to close against the intruders, and for- 
bid farther progress. The gorge was the noted one west 
of Magdala, known as the Valley of Doves, leading from 
the plain of Gennesaret to the hill-country of Galilee. The 
cliff on the left was honeycombed with caverns, partly 
natural, partly artificial, iii whose recesses, previous to the 
time of Herod, the great bands of robbers had found a 
secure retreat. Since that monarch had succeeded in dis- 
lodging these dwellers, the caverns had remained unten- 
anted, the haunt only of bats, jackals, and an occasional 
demoniac. 

As the Master and his followers wound along the narrow 
way, every one was suddenly startled by a piercing scream, 
ringing out overhead, and echoing from clitf to cliff. All 
eyes were turned upward toward the caves, in front of 
which, in utter disregard of danger, a woman was seen 
flying along a narrow, perilous pathway on tlie face of the 
rocky wall. She was without sandals for her feet, desti- 
tute of veil, shawl, or head-dress of any kind ; while her 
one garment, a long tunic, was but loosely gathered at the 
hips by a girdle, and, with her long, unkempt hair, fluttered 
wildly in the wind. Presently she was out of sight, but 
only to reappear immediately on the top of a prominent 
rock overhanging the road. 

“ It is the Magdalene,” said James to Thoma. 

“ The Magdalene, sayest thou? ” 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


255 


“ Aye ; her name is Miriam, and she conieth from 
Magdala. She is possessed with seven demons ; and 
verily ” — 

Another scream from the demoniac drowned his words. 
The woman, dashing the hair back from her face, gazed 
down at Jesus with straining eyes, and features white and 
drawn with terror. Suddenly she broke forth again, this 
time articulately, and leaning with outstretched arm and 
fingers perilously far over the edge of the rock. 

“ Jesus of Nazareth,” she cried, “ I know thee who thou 
art, the Holy One of God ! Art thou come to destroy us ? 
Let us alone, let us alone ! ” 

“ Hold your peace,” said Jesus sternly, “ and come out 
of her, and molest her no more.” 

Again there was a scream, as of utter despair, and the 
woman sank upon the rock. A moment later she was seen 
to. rise, and thread her way, no longer in reckless confi- 
dence, but cautiously and timidly, along the ledge until the 
roadway was gained, when she hastened to cast herself at 
the feet of her Deliverer. Jesus lifted her up gently, and 
led her to one of the women of the company, Salome by 
name, mother of James and John. The transformation 
amazed Thoma beyond measure. Could this gentle, retir- 
ing woman, drawing her long hair about her to shield her 
from public view, and shrinking close to her new-found 
friend, be the same as she whose wild screams and mad 
movements had so recently shocked them all ? And what a 
change in those fair features ! No longer a crazed mind, 
but a modest, womanly spirit, looked out from the full, 
liquid eyes, while the cheeks, before pallid with fear, were 
flushed with confusion and embarrassment. Thoma, look- 
ing at the transformed countenance, said to himself that, 
with one exception, he had not seen in all his years a face 
with so sweet and so truly womanly a charm as that of this 
Miriam of Magdala. The one exception was that of the 


256 


EMMANUISL ; 


fair wife at Ephraim, who, in continual darkness, spent her 
days ministering to her family. 

He learned from his companion, James, that Miriam be- 
longed to a well-to-do Magdalene family, of which she was 
the sole surviving representative, her only brother, a man of 
hard and unsympathetic temper, having recently died. If 
rumour was to be credited, his harsh treatment of his sister 
had done not a little to aggravate her terrible malady. 

In the late afternoon Jesus led his followers back to the 
lake shore ; and as evening drew on, after pointing out a 
neighbouring mountain side where they would find him in 
the morning, sent them on to Capernaum, while he went 
off by himself for a night of solitary communion with 
God. The Master had need of rest and spiritual refresh- 
ment ; and in the city he had reason to believe the people, 
in their interest in him, would allow him slight opportunity 
for either the one or the other. 

The sun sank behind the western mountains, and only 
the glow of its rays on the far lofty cones eastward, and 
the fiery splendour with which it dashed and bathed the 
fleecy clouds overhead, told that it had not yet set. Soon 
even these bright signals paled ; the dusk and the grateful 
coolness of evening gathered in the lake basin and on the 
mountain slopes, and Jesus was safe from intrusion, and 
alone with his Father. We cannot follow him into the 
night and its hours of spiritual exaltation. It must always 
remain a mystery in this world how the divine Spirit could 
become incarnate and subject to limitation in Jesus the 
Christ, and then hold communion with Itself as It exists 
unlimited throughout the universe ; as yet ‘ ‘ we see through 
a glass darkly.” Fortunately it is a mystery charged with 
light and life, and is not to be compared with the chilling 
gloom which would have enveloped mankind had such a 
personal manifestation been withheld. 


TllK STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


257 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE CONSTITUTION OF THE KINGDOM.^ 

Come, kingdom of our God, 

Sweet reign of light and love ! 

Shed peace and hope and joy abroad. 
And wisdom from above. 


Come, kingdom of our God ! 

And make the broad earth thine; 

Stretch o’er her lands and isles the rod 
That flowers with grace divine. 

JoHK Johns. 

W ITH the earliest dawn the disciples, by this time a 
numerous and increasing body, sought out their 
Master on the mountain and brought him news 
of a great multitude which, from Chorazin, Magdala, and 
other Galilaean towns, from heathen Decapolis beyond the 
lake, from Persea and Judaea, and even from the region of 
Tyre and Sidon, had been gathering for days past in 
Capernaum, for the purpose of hearing the now far-famed 
Rabbi, and witnessing his power to heal. The Lord did 
not avoid the crowd on this occasion ; but, confident that it 
would soon follow, the disciples, remained on the mountain 
awaiting its coming. 

The increase of his fame and of the number of his ad- 
herents, and the solemn experiences of the night, had 
brought him to a new epoch in his career. The time had 
come for the Messiah to begin the organization of his 
kingdom. Calling his disciples to him he proceeded to 
choose from among them twelve whom he called apostles, — 
men who were to be not only his constant companions, but 


1 Luke vi. 12-viii. 3 ; Matt. v. 1-vii. 29. 


258 


EMMANUEL ; 


his heralds ; not only his pupils, but his missionaries and, 
in a sense, his vicars. 

They were : Simon, whom he had already surnamed 
Peter ; James and John, sons of Zebedee and Salome, 
whom he smilingly greeted as Boanerges, or sons of thun- 
der ; Andrew, brother of Simon ; Philip of Bethsaida and 
Nathanael Bar-Tolmai ; Thoma — to his great joy — and 
Matthew the publican; James and Judah-Lebbieus, sur- 
named, from his joyous disposition, Thaddeus, sons of 
Alphseus-Clopah ; Simon, surnamed the zealot, from his 
former adherence to the cause of the fierce, but patriotic, 
Judah the Gaulanite ; and, finally, Judah, commonly known 
as Iscariot — the man of Kerioth — from his native city in 
southern Judaea. This last Judah, a man who afterward 
covered his name with lasting infamy, was the only Judaean 
comrade of Thoma in the twelve, the remaining ten being 
from Galilee, and most of them from the towns about the 
lake. 

By the time the apostolic circle was complete, and the 
end for which it was formed explained, sounds coming up 
from the valley admonished the Master that the multitude 
was approaching. He went to meet it forthwith, leading 
his disciples down the declivity a little way, and pausing on 
one of several small plateaus on the mountain side. 

A strange contrast there presented itself to the eyes of 
the Redeemer of men: natural beauty was confronted by 
human deformity. Around on every side was the silence 
and peaceful charm of nature in repose. The sun, just 
appearing above the eastern mountains, was pouring its 
rays through their gaps, and fiooding with brightness the 
lake’s western shore. On that shore the picturesque, 
seamed, and broken mountains, their feet draped with 
vineyards and orchards ; the rich plain of Gennesaret, 
thickly strewn with bundles of newly harvested wheat ; the 
many flourishing towns with whitewashed walls showing 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


259 


brightly by Galilee’s blue waters, — all stood out in fine con- 
trast with the gloom of the eastern side in the dark shadow 
of the towering Gaulanitic cliffs. In the centre, blue and 
bright, its waves glistening as the sun’s rays caught them, 
and its surface dotted with the boats of fishermen, lay the 
jewel for which the rest was the setting, the Lake of Gen- 
nesaret. 

Into the foreground of this fair prospect, with all the 
tumult and confusion of an Oriental mob, was coming a 
great mass of curious and suffering humanity, — some of 
the afflicted struggling up of themselves, others relying on 
the support of their friends. They spread over the slope 
and pressed upward, as though for the attack of an enemy’s 
stronghold ; yet their sole object in invading Nature’s fair 
solitudes at such an hour was to meet one man, — a man of 
noble and gracious countenance, who, a little in advance of 
his friends, stood viewing their approach with grave com- 
passion. 

Then came a busy hour for Jesus, an exciting one for the 
people. The power which had brought healing to so many 
already was again manifest for relief and blessing, and, as 
on former occasions, its exercise excited powerfully the 
wonder and the enthusiasm of the multitude. Even before 
the work of healing was done, and the last demon cast out, 
men began to gather in groups in excited conversation. 
Many were the vigorously expressed opinions that the 
kingdom of heaven, the true kingdom of Israel, was at 
hand ; that here was a prophet greater than any since 
Elisha, if not Moses ; and as the news spread of the 
choosing of the twelve that very morning, many were the 
exclamations over the happy estate of those who should be 
honoured with high positions by the crowned and enthroned 
Messiah. 

While this talk was in progress, Jesus seated himself on 
the mountain side, a little above the level area, and, his 


260 


EMMANUEL ; 


disciples having gathered about him, began to teach on 
the all-engrossing theme, the kingdom of heaven, — but in 
terms differing not a little from those used by the people. 

“ Blessed,’" he said to the disciples, and through them to 
the multitude, “are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the 
kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they that mourn : for 
they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek : for they 
shall inherit the earth. Blessed are they that hunger and 
thirst after righteousness : for they shall be filled. Blessed 
are the merciful : for they shall obtain mercy. Blessed are 
the pure in heart : for they shall see God. Blessed are 
the peacemakers : for they shall be called sons of God. 
Blessed are they that are persecuted for righteousness sake : 
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are ye when 
men shall reproach you, and persecute you, and say all 
manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake. Rejoice 
and be exceeding glad : for great is your reward in heaven : 
for so persecuted they the prophets which were before you. 

“Ye are the salt of the earth ; but if the salt have lost 
its savour, wherewith shall it be salted? It is thenceforth 
good for nothing but to be cast out and to be trodden 
under foot of men. Ye are the light of the world. A city 
set on a hill cannot be hid,” pointing across to loftily 
perched Gamala, whose whitewashed walls stood out promi- 
nently in the bright sunshine against the black cliffs behind 
it. “Neither do men light a lamp and put it under the 
bushel, but on the stand ; and it shineth unto all that are 
in the house. Even so let your light shine before men, 
that they may see your good works, and glorify your 
Father who is in heaven.” 

Passing then from the description of true citizens of the 
kingdom to the consideration of the law to prevail in it, he 
met the charge of the Rabbis that he was overthrowing the 
religion of Israel. 

“ Think not,” he said, “ that I am come to destroy the 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


261 


Law or the Prophets : I am not come to destroy, but to 
fulfil. For verily I say unto you, Till heaven and earth 
pass away, one jot or one tittle shall in no wise pass away 
from the Law, till all things be accomplished.” 

But if the law of God, as given to the ancient leaders 
and prophets of Israel, received emphatic vindication, it 
was quite otherwise with the rules and refinements of the 
Rabbis. “ For I say unto you,” was the reference to 
the latter, “ that except your righteousness shall exceed 
the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees, ye shall in 
no wise enter into the kingdom of heaven.” 

To make clear the contrast between the true keeping of 
God’s law and that outward, perfunctory honouring or dis- 
honouring of it characteristic of traditionalism, Jesus pro- 
ceeded to define and explain that law as it applied to 
murder, to adultery, to oaths, to retaliation, and to love 
for one’s neighbour, showing in each case that it must 
control, not only outward act and appearance, but the 
thought and feeling within. Not only must a man not kill 
his fellow, but he must not hate him, nor even be angry 
with him without cause. Not only must he keep himself 
from adultery and all uncleanness, but he must crush the 
licentious thought prompting to outward transgression. 
Not only should one perform his oaths, but he should be 
true to his word without an oath, and should make his 
communication simply yea and nay. In place of the old, 
narrow, and harsh regulations, “ an eye for an eye,” and 

love thy neighbour and hate thine enemy,” those entering 
the kingdom of heaven must learn to love their enemies and 
to pray for those persecuting them ; that so they might be 
the sons of their Father in heaven, perfect as He is perfect, 
who makes His sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and 
sends His rain on the just and on the unjust. 

“ Take heed,” said the' Lord, coming to the manner of 
life which must characterize citizens of the kingdom, “ that 


262 


EMMANUEL ; 


ye do not your righteousness before men, to be seen of 
them ; else ye have no reward with your Father who is in 
heaven.” 

Their deeds of benevolence, unlike those of which the 
Pharisees were proud, must be done privately ; their 
prayers and their fasting, again in contrast with Pharisaic 
custom, must be in secret, witnessed only by their heavenly 
Father. Moreover, tliey must not deem that they could be 
citizens of the kingdom and of the world at the same time ; 
subjects of the Messianic King must give their entire alle- 
giance to him. Nor was there need or excuse for service 
of another ; for he was abundantly able and willing to care 
for them. 

“ No man can serve two masters,” exclaimed Jesus ear- 
nestly ; “for either he will hate the one and love the other, 
or else he will hold to one, and despise the other. Ye 
cannot serve God and mammon. Therefore I say unto 
you. Be not anxious for your life, what ye shall eat, or 
what ye shall drink ; nor yet for your body, what ye shnll 
put on. Is not the life more than the food, and the body 
than the raiment? Behold the birds of the heaven, that 
they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns ; 
and your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not of 
much more value than they ? And which of you by being 
anxious can add one cubit unto the measure of his life? 
And why are ye anxious concerning raiment? Consider 
the lilies of the field, how they grow : they toil not, neither 
do they spin : yet I say unto you, that even Solomon in all 
his glory was not arrayed like one of these. But if God 
doth so clothe the grass of the field, which to-day is, and 
to-morrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more 
clothe you, O ye of little faith? . . . Seek ye first His 

kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things shall 
be added unto you.” 

And so the wonderful sermon went on. Wonderful is it 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


263 


to-day, to us who have it in fragmentary form, and have 
become familiar with its precepts from infancy ; far more 
wonderful must it have been as it came full and fresh from 
the divine lips first uttering it. It closed with a grave 
warning against seeking the kingdom in appearance only, 
and a vivid picture of the contrast between real and pre- 
tended citizens. 

“Not every one,” said Jesus gravely, “ that saith unto 
me. Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven ; 
but he that doeth the will of my Father who is in heaven. 

. . . Every one, therefore, who heareth these words of 

mine and doeth them, shall be likened unto a wise man, 
who built his house upon the rock : and the rain descended 
and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon 
that house ; and it fell not, for it was founded upon the 
rock. And every one that heareth these words of mine, 
and doeth them not, shall be likened unto a foolish man, 
who built his house upon the sand ; and the rain descended, 
and the floods came, and the winds blew, and smote upon 
that house ; and it fell, and great was the fall thereof.” 

When the discourse was concluded, and the people dis- 
missed, they departed, speaking in tones of astonishment 
of the teaching to which they had listened. This they felt 
was not the manner of a scribe commenting cautiously, 
and always under cover of precedent, upon the Scriptures 
or sacred institutions ; but that of a King speaking his 
will with unwavering confidence and calm decision. 

Toward evening, attended by his disciples only, the 
Master quietly entered Capernaum. His steps were soon 
thronged, however ; a crowd, led on this occasion by no less 
personages than the elders of the synagogue, coming to 
meet him. A young and highly prized slave, the property 
of the centurion in command of the cohort stationed at 
Capernaum, lay at the point of death, and the Roman offi- 
cer, from special reasons on friendly terms with his Jewish 


264 


EMMANUEL ; 


neighbours, had induced the synagogue rulers to go with 
him and intercede in his behalf with the great Jewish 
healer. The elders duly presented the desired request for 
the cure of the favourite slave, adding, in justification of 
such a favour to a heathen, “ He is worthy that thou 
shouldest do this for him ; for he loveth our nation, and 
himself built us our synagogue.” 

The centurion himself then spoke. 

“ Lord, my servant lieth in the house sick of the palsy, 
grievously tormented ” — 

“I will come and heal him,” said Jesus breaking in. 

The Roman, however, whose drawing toward Judaism 
arose from a perception of its lofty, spiritual truths, recog- 
nized the true station of Jesus better than the multitude of 
the Jews, who were instructed in forms rather than in 
truth. 

“ Lord,” he said respectively, “ I am not worthy that 
thou shouldest come under my roof ; but only say the word 
and my servant shall be healed. For I also am a man un- 
der authority, having under myself soldiers ; and I say to 
this one. Go, and he goeth ; and to another. Come, and he 
cometh ; and to my bond-servant. Do this, and he doeth it.” 

Jesus turned and looked over the crowd of Jews around 
him. 

“ Verily, I say unto you,” he exclaimed warmly, “ I 
have not found so great faith, no, not in Israel. And I 
say unto you, that many shall come from the east and the 
west, and shall sit down with Abraham, and Isaac, and 
Jacob, in the kingdom of heaven; but the sons of the 
kingdom shall be cast forth into the outer darkness ; there 
shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth.” 

Then to the centurion, “Go thy way; as thou hast 
believed, so be it done unto thee.” 

The officer found his slave entirely recovered, as he had 
expected. 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


265 


With early dawn, before the gray light in the east showed 
a tinge of colour, Jesus departed from the city for the hill- 
country westward, to enter Capernaum no more for months 
to come. The popular excitement in the vicinity of the 
lake was becoming greater than he desired. Moreover, 
very many of the towns in the hill-country had not yet 
heard the Gospel. He did not go alone ; for, having ac- 
quainted his disciples with his intention, not only the newly 
chosen twelve and other male followers, but certain women, 
also accompanied him in his westward tour. Among them 
was Joanna, wife of Chuza, Herod’s steward. She had 
good reason to remember Jesus, and to believe in him ; for 
her only son had been brought back from the gates of death 
only two months before by the word of Jesus, spoken in 
Cana, but potent in Capernaum. Among them, too, was 
Susanna, who had been healed of an incurable disease, and 
Salome, whose two sons, James and John, had just been 
placed among the chosen twelve. With her was Miriam, of 
Capernaum, who had experienced the Lord’s power to heal, 
and who likewise was the mother of two of the apostles, — 
James and Judah, the sons of Alphieus. To these was 
soon added another, Miriam of Magdala, once possessed 
of seven demons, but now in her right mind, and clothed 
as became a modest and gentle Hebrew maiden. The name 
of the last might well have been placed first in the list of 
devoted women, for in loving service she soon surpassed 
all others, partly from the greater loathsomeness of the 
state from which she had been delivered, partly because of 
a naturally loftier and more spiritual nature which broug;ht 
her into truer sympathy with, and understanding of, her 
Lord. These women, and others whose lives had been 
gladdened by the power of Jesus of Nazareth, as well as 
many men among the adherents of the Master, took pleas- 
ure in ministering to his simple wants and those of his 
constant disciples. • 


26G 


EMMANUEL ; 


The Messiah and liis lowly retinue found themselves in 
a breezier and more bracing atmosphere when, after 
leaving the vicinity of the lake and its already enervating 
heat, they wound among the groves of oak and terebinth 
at the base of Mount Tabor. This picturesque and strik- 
ing mountain, with its citadel-crowned summit, was passed 
by on the east, the Master keeping on southward across 
the small intervening plain to the opposite mount, now 
known as Little Hermon. Late in the afternoon, Endor, 
where King Saul had his ghostly interview with the 
deceased Samuel, being left behind, Jesus, followed once 
more by a multitude, drew near the city of Nain. The 
Lord’s visit to this place, a town of no great size, was 
remarkable from the fact that in it he manifested a power 
which astounded for the time, not only stranger observers, 
but the disciples Tvho knew him best. 

On approaching Nain a large procession was seen to 
issue from its gate, the nature of which was soon clear. 
The sound of noisy lamentation, and the extravagant 
manifestations of grief, proclaimed it a funeral. The 
hired mourners were crying aloud, throwing dust in the air 
and upon their heads, and at times, with piercing screams, 
casting themselves to the earth. There seemed to be but 
one real mourner, a woman, and she made few demonstra- 
tions, but wept bitterly. She was clothed with sackcloth, 
and sprinkled with ashes ; for the greatest calamity which 
could befall a Hebrew woman had come to her, — her only 
son was dead. Since she was a widow, all hope of the 
pride and joy of Hebrew womanhood seemed denied her. 

“AVeep not, my daughter,” was Jesus’ compassionate 
greeting. 

He stopped the bier, and, regardless of ceremonial 
defilement, laid his hand upon it. The bearers stood still, 
rested their burden on the ground, and looked at him in 
surprise. Then surprise was lost in amazement and 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


267 


\ 

terror; for, in deep tones of authority, Jesus broke the 
silence, — 

“Young man, I say unto thee. Arise.” 

Instantly the dead man sat up and began to speak, the 
bearers and bystanders shrinking away in fright. Not 
till Jesus released the man from the grave-clothes and led 
him to his mother, could the beholders believe that they 
Trere not looking upon an apparition. At first it would 
have been difficult to determine whether gratitude or fear 
predominated in the mind of the widow thus suddenly 
receiving her son back from another world ; she could 
say nothing by way of thanks, but sank at the Master’s 
feet, overcome with awe, and speechless with her great joy. 
Among the beholders, fear was plainly the ruling senti- 
ment, since even the disciples drew away from their Lord, 
regarding him with a fresh accession of awe. Who was 
this who commanded the dead to arise, and behold, he was 
obeyed? The awe diminished naturally as, on proceeding 
toward the town, disciples and people saw' in the Lord the 
same ready and simple friendliness as formerly. Forget- 
ting their fear then, men began to exult and to glorify 
God. 

“Verily,” they said one to another, “a great prophet 
is arisen among us. Yea, God hath visited his people.” 

Among those witnessing this astonishing miracle was 
a certain outcast woman of Nain. This woman could not 
get the better of her fears so readily as those about her ; 
for, she thought, what if the eyes of this great prophet 
were to rest upon her? Would he not see her sinfulness 
and condemn her publicly? Yet she experienced a strange 
attraction toward the very Man she feared, and followed 
in his train. She was one of the crowd hanging on his 
words in the short hour before dark, and, in consequence, 
passed a sleepless night, tortured by an awakened con- 
science, and the besetting memories of a guilty life. Her 


268 


EMMANUEL ; 


keen j)erceptions, greatly sharpened by the experiences of 
her sinful course, told her that in Jesus of Nazareth there 
was not only marvellous power, but purity unsullied. It 
was the sight of that which made her sin hateful in her 
eyes as never before. We know not whether, with the 
return of day, she sought the Lord and made confession 
or not ; but from one notable act it would seem that the 
turning point in her career was reached, and that, in full 
surrender to holy influences, she had determined on a new 
life, let the cost be what it might. Not improbably she 
had some sweet experience of the Master’s grace ; she 
found, perhaps, her painful confession met, on the part of 
Jesus, with tender sympathy and quick forgiveness, and 
went from his presence with, for the first time, some true 
conception of divine mercy, and wrapped round and round 
with peace and hope. 

On the second day, the Sabbath, at the close of the 
morning service at the synagogue, where, as was to be ex- 
pected, Jesus had been invited to speak, a certain Pharisee, 
Simon by name, came to him and invited him to dine at his 
house. The invitation was purely from worldly policy. 
The Pharisee wished to maintain his position of prominence 
among his fellow-townsmen, who were at that moment 
talking excitedly of the new Prophet who had arisen. 
Secretly, however, knowing that the Pharisees of Caper- 
naum and other places had pronounced against the new 
Teacher, he determined to omit all such courtesies or atten- 
tions to his guest, even of the most customary character, 
as might compromise him with his class. 

Simon was a man of property, and, like all in the land 
who could afford it, reclined at his meals, — a fashion of 
foreign origin, — instead of sitting on the ground on mats 
in peasant style. The penitent woman, who, in an obscure 
corner in the woman’s gallery that morning, had drank in 
the words of Jesus as the very words of life, overheard the 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


269 


invitation of the Pharisee, and knowing his house well — 
perhaps too well — hastened away to her home with a new 
purpose in mind. Simon and his guests had scarcely taken 
their places on the couches, when she came, and, making 
her way through the crowd in the street, boldly entered the 
door. Several other outsiders had already done the same, 
but they were of better repute. Regardless of frowns, and 
scornful, in some cases utterly hypocritical, glances from 
Simon and the other men around her Lord, she went 
directly to the rear of the couch on which he reclined, and 
began to wet his feet with her tears, and wipe them with 
her abundant hair ; then, after kissing them repeatedly, she 
anointed them from an alabaster flask of ointment which 
she had brought for the purpose. The Pharisee, Simon, 
wrapped in his impervious cloak of self-righteousness, 
considered this scene a sufficient denial of any claims which 
Jesus might make to prophetic distinction. 

“ This man,” he reasoned, “ if he were a prophet, would 
have perceived who and what manner of woman this is 
that toucheth him, that she is a sinner.” 

Jesus had, indeed, perceived it, and also the state of his 
host’s mind. 

“ Simon,” he began quietly, “ 1 have somewhat to say 
unto thee.” 

“ Rabbi, say on.” 

“ A certain lender had two debtors ; the one owed five 
hundred shillings, and the other fifty. When they had not 
wherewith to pay, he forgave them both. Which of them, 
therefore, will love him most? ” 

“ He, I suppose, to whom he forgave the most.” 

“Thou hast rightly judged.” Then, turning to the 
woman, “ Seest thou this woman? I entered into thine 
house, thou gavest me no water for my feet : but she hath 
wetted my feet with her tears, and wiped them with her 
hair. Thou gavest me no kiss : but she, since the time I 


270 


EMMANUEL ; 


came in, hath not ceased to kiss my feet. My head with 
oil thou didst not anoint : but she hath anointed my feet 
with ointment. Wherefore, I say unto thee. Her sins, which 
are many, are forgiven ; for she loved much : but to whom 
little is forgiven, the same loveth little.” 

Whereupon, gently, to the kneeling woman, “ Thy sins 
are forgiven.” 

At this the other guests began to look at each other, and 
to exclaim, “ Who is this that even forgiveth sins? ” 

“ Thy faith hath saved thee,” Jesus continued ; “ go into 
peace.” 

And with peace and gladness lighting up a face still fair, 
and love throbbing in a changed heart, the woman went 
forth to a new life. 

Again the son of Salmon was startled by the words, 
“ Thy sins are forgiven,” and though to a less degree than 
before, yet the unanswered query would assert itself, 
“Who can forgive sins but God only?” 

Shunem, around the western shoulder of the mount, 
where Elisha had restored to life the son of his former 
hostess, was next visited by Jesus. The news of the rais- 
ing of the widow’s son had preceded them ; and, from the 
number of people flocking out to meet the Master, the 
place was apparently far more moved over that miracle 
than, centuries before, it had been over that of Elisha, 
within its own walls. 

Here Thoma took leave of his Lord for a rapid journey 
down through neighbouring Samaria to his home. The 
most definite news which he could bring to his family was 
that it would be impossible to determine beforehand the 
Master’s places of sojourn till after the beginning of the 
early rains in the fall, when he would return to the Sea of 
Galilee. 

Meanwhile, a report of the astonishing miracle at Nain 
spread rapidly through the land, and, with other accounts 


THE STOEY OF THE MESSIAH. 


271 


of Jesus, reached the ears of the disciples of the Baptist. 
John, still pining in the dungeon of Machaerus, east of the 
Dead Sea, did not endure confinement with the undimin- 
ished courage, strength of soul, and clearness of vision 
which he had manifested under the privation, danger, and 
opposition incident to his active career. His great spirit 
drooped shut in from the strength and inspiration of the 
works of God, — the lonely mountain peak, the desert with 
its boundless freedom, and the deep, brilliant skies of his 
Judaean home. The doubt which could not disturb him 
when he was free and his spirit strong found a momentary 
lodgment in a mind distressed and weakened by long con- 
finement. Could it be, if Jesus were truly the Messiah, 
that his faithful servant and herald would be permitted to 
pine away in that vile dungeon? To quiet, if possible, 
his misgivings, and at the same time remind Jesus of his 
forlorn condition, he sent two of his disciples with a mes- 
sage of inquiry to the great Teacher. These not finding 
the latter, however, till he had returned to the Sea of 
Galilee, their report was not a little delayed. 

When, after a fortnight’s absence, Thoma started to re- 
join his Master, he found himself obliged to journey west- 
ward and northward nearly to the Great Sea before he 
overtook him. The summer had come in earnest. The 
heat grew daily more intense ; the sun shone from a rain- 
less sky of deepest blue ; the streams failed one after 
another, and all grass or flowers and other herbage, 
not watered from pool or fountain, dried up. But though 
the Syrian summer reigned with its customary power, the 
parched dryness of the soil and the brownness of the 
landscape were not nearly so great in Galilee as in Judaea. 
The fountains were more numerous, the dews heavier, and 
the winds less scorching than in the more southerly dis- 
trict ; while the prevalent forests and orchards still held 


272 


EMMANUEL ; 


the moisture and verdure of spring long after every trace 
of it had departed from the bare hills about Jerusalem. 
Especially did the continuous succession of fruits redeem 
the Galilsean summer from the approach of aridity and 
barrenness. The great Teacher and his numerous follow- 
ing passed almost constantly in the hill-country through 
either orchards or vineyards. The almonds and early figs 
were not gone before certain of the grapes began to 
appear ; these were followed by apples, summer figs, 
walnuts, and early olives ; and, by the time of the return 
to the lake, the regular vintage had commenced, and even 
pomegranates began to show themselves. 

And this fruitful land extended a generous welcome to 
its Lord ; for the time its inhabitants delighted to recog- 
nize and honour their King and Redeemer. The carping 
criticisms of the Pharisees were drowned in the very gen- 
eral laudation of one who dispensed blessings right and 
left with royal munificence, and welcomed poor and rich, 
small and great, alike. On the approach of Jesus to town 
or city, the inhabitants would throng out to meet him, 
escort him through the gate, and, with the exception of the 
dwellings of rigid Pharisees, the best houses in the place 
were thrown open to him and his disciples ; for here were 
guests to whom to minister was a privilege, — guests who 
brought with them gifts of surpassing value. And when 
the days of the stay of Jesus had passed ; when the sick 
had been healed, and the people taught as to the kingdom 
of heaven ; when the Messiah took his departure from the 
happy town, the people again streamed out into the coun- 
try, this time to honour his departure, and bid him God 
speed. They were happy and apparently prosperous days, 
those of that summer and autumn. The fields everywhere 
seemed white unto harvest, and to the disciples the work of 
preparation for the great ingathering appeared a delightful 
and inspiriting task. It was not strange that, witnessing 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


273 


the almost universal favour with which their Master was 
received, they exulted in the nearness of the kingdom 
of heaven. But little more of such work, they said to 
each other, would be needed to make the Galilseans, at 
all events, in spite of the opposition and machinations of 
Pharisee and Herodian, a unit around the Messiah, a people 
ready at a moment’s notice to rise and follow his standard. 

With the first storm of autumn Jesus turned his steps 
eastward. The vintage was then at its height, and the 
towns almost deserted, the people living in booths in the 
vineyards, and combining the labour of ingathering with 
festivities and great rejoicings. The Master’s audiences 
during this season were, not in the towns, but in the 
country ; not in city street or synagogue, but in the narrow 
lanes winding among and over the hills. As he passed, 
the workers in a vineyard would fiock to the roadside, 
bearing rich clusters as presents to the welcome strangers, 
and listen with wonder and deepest interest to one whose 
fame had reached them long before. So more bright, 
golden days went by, till the lake slope was gained again, 
in the neighbourhood of Chorazin, where, the season being 
more advanced, the population was found once more in the 
towns. 

Among many who quickly heard of the Lord’s return 
were the two messengers from the Baptist. Climbing 
speedily to Chorazin, they found Jesus surrounded by a 
multitude, and engaged in healing the sick. 

“ Rabbi,” they said, at the first opportunity, “ John the 
Baptist hath sent us unto thee, saying. Art thou he 
that cometh, or look we for another ? ” 

Jesus did not answer immediately ; for a new company of 
suppliants, some blind, some troubled with various diseases, 
besought healing of him with piteous cries of “ Rabbi,” 
“ Rabboni,” “ Jesus of Nazareth,” etc. When he had laid 
liis hands upon them, and given to each the blessing 


274 


EMMANUEL ; 


sought, including the cure of a few demoniacs, and when 
the joyful cries of the recipients had subsided in part, he 
turned to the messengers from John. 

“ Go your way,’^ were his words, “ and tell John what 
things ye have seen and heard ; the blind receive their 
sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, and the deaf 
hear, the dead are raised up, the poor have good tidings 
preached to them. And blessed is he whosoever shall find 
none occasion of stumbling in me.” 

“ What went ye out into the wilderness to behold?” he 
said, addressing the multitude when the two had departed ; 

a reed shaken with the wind? But what went ye out to 
see? A man clothed in soft raiment? Behold, they that 
are gorgeously apparelled and live delicately are in king’s 
courts. But what went ye out to see ? A prophet? Yea, 
I say unto you, and much more than a prophet. This is 
he of whom it is written. Behold I send my messenger 
before thy face, who shall prepare thy way before thee. 
Verily I say unto you. Among them that are born of women 
there hath not arisen a greater than J ohn the Baptist ; yet 
he that is but little in the kingdom of heaven is greater 
than he.” 

This encomium was very pleasing to most of the people, 
since they had been baptized by J ohn ; not so was it to a 
group of lowering Pharisees, gathered at one side, not far 
from the speaker. 

“ But whereunto shall I liken this generation?” Jesus 
went on, turning to these latter. “ It is like unto children 
sitting in the market-places, that call unto their fellows, 
and say. We piped unto you, and ye did not dance; we 
wailed, and ye did not mourn. For John came neither 
eating nor drinking, and they say. He hath a demon. The 
Son of man came eating and drinking, and they say. 
Behold, a gluttonous man, and a winebibber, a friend of 
publicans and sinners ! And wisdom is justified of all her 
children.” 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


275 


CHAPTER XIX. 

THE FLOOD OF THE TIDE.^ 


Across the Sea, along the shore, 

In numbers even more and more. 

From lonely hut and busy town, 

The valley through, the mountain down, 

What was it ye went out to see. 

Ye silly folk of Galilee? 

The reed that in the wind doth shake? 

The weed that washes in the lake? 

The reeds that waver, the weeds that float? 

“ A young man preaching in a boat.” 

Clough. 

A FEW days later, in one of the streets of Capernaum, 
a Pharisee of the place and a scribe from Jerusa- 
lem, both of whom we have seen before, met 
accidentally. 

“ Hail, Rabbi Hakana ! The Holy One, blessed be 
His name, defend thee.” 

“ The Lord bless^ thee, Bar-Eleazar. Hast thou heard, 
Joseph, that that deceiver hath returned?” 

“ Yea, Rabbi ; he is now in Bethsaida.” 

“ Nay, but he is in Capernaum. Not content with rais- 
ing a tumult and leading the people astray in all upper 
Galilee, he must needs come back here to work more mis- 
chief. We must stop this fellow, Joseph.” 

“Would that we might. Rabbi; but thou knowest how 
the people are led about by him ; and verily what can we 
do?” 

“We must unmask him. We must show the people 
whence he gaineth his power.” 


’ M^att. xii. 22-xiii. 9; ix. 27-x. 16; Mark iv. 10-v. 43; vi. 14-29. 


276 


EMMANUEL ; 


“Ah! whence thinkest thou he gaineth his power? of a 
truth he doeth many miracles.” 

‘ ‘ I know not ; perchance 'tis by the holy four-lettered 
name [Jahveh] ; perchance Satan worketh with him, or he 
hath gained forbidden heathen learning. It matters not. 
We must teach the people that God hath no part in his 
works. Here cometh a crowd of the am ha-arets now. I’ll 
warrant they have some new wonder to relate.” 

The crowd referred to filled the narrow street from house 
to house, and the two Pharisees were obliged to step close 
to the wall to avoid it. Its centre manifestly was a certain 
man whose face shone with happiness. From a neighbour 
in the throng Joseph learned the cause of the excitement, — 
a poor man most sadly afflicted, being not only blind, but 
possessed by a demon which made him dumb, had been 
taken to Jesus of Nazareth, and by him restored and 
delivered. 

“ Art thou he that was cured?” said the Rabbi coldly 
to the man with the happy face. 

“ Yea, sir, I am ; blessed be God ! ” 

“ Knowest thou not, man,” was the frowning reply, 
“that this fellow is a deceiver? The Rabbis at Jerusa- 
lem have condemned him. He worketh by the power of 
Satan.” 

There was a hush in the crowd under these severe, scorn- 
ful words coming from such a source ; and many looked 
dismayed. 

“ Hath Satan then opened mine eyes,” returned the 
man incredulously, “ cast out the demon, and loosed my 
tongue ? ” 

“ Thou mayest live yet,” said the scribe bitingly, “ to 
curse the man that loosed thy tongue.” 

“ I doubt not. Rabbi,” shouted one of the crowd, “ thou 
wouldest be glad didst thou have the Nazarene’s power to 
cast out demons.” 


THE STOEY OF THE MESSIAH 


277 


“Who art thou, fellow, that darest reply to a Rabbi? 
Send him forward to me that I may look at him.” 

The crowd opened, and the man, finding concealment 
impossible, came to the front with as bold a face as he 
could assume. The scribe eyed him with a scowl. 

“ Knowest thou not that the man is cursed who revileth 
his teachers? But what then? Thinkest thou not I, too, 
can cast out demons ? ” 

“ Yea, I know thou canst after thy fashion ; but not as 
doth the Nazarene. But yesterday I saw thee cast the 
demon out of a boy. Thou didst burn incense over him, 
and tie knots and loose them ; and thou didst walk around 
him, and spread out thy hands, mutter strange words, and 
heap curses on the evil spirit ; but two hours afterward the 
demon was back in the lad as strong as ever. It is not 
thus when Rabbi Jesus caste th them out.” 

At this the rage of the scribe broke all bounds. 

“ Thou hast a demon,” he cried furiously, “thou inso- 
lent son of the soil ! Thou knowest not the beginnings of 
wisdom, and art damned. Get thee hence ; thou art an 
offence unto me ; thou shalt be cast out of the synagogue. 
As for this deceiver from Nazareth,” turning to the people, 
“ right well he casteth out demons ; for he hath Beelzebub, 
and by the prince of the demons casteth out the demons.” 

The scribe had discharged his bolt ; and gathering his 
Rabbinical cloak about him, he and his fellow Pharisee 
proudly strode away. Arrogant assertion was, as usual, 
not without its effect. The enthusiasm of the people evap- 
orated like dew before its scorching breath ; and silently, 
much confused and perplexed, they dispersed, carrying the 
report of the episode and the charge of the Pharisees to 
every part of the town. At the time of the miracle they 
had almost ceased to doubt that Jesus was the Messiah ; 
indeed, they had begun to say one to another, “ Is not this 
the Son of David ? ” Could it be, after all, that he cast out 
demons by Beelzebub? 


278 


EMMANUEL ; 


In the course of the evening the charge of demoniacal 
agency reached the ears of a party of strangers in the city. 
The brethren of Jesus had induced their mother to accom- 
pany them to Capernaum, that they might make a strong 
and united effort to induce the eldest son and brother to 
abandon what they considered his mad career as a Rabbi, 
and return with them to his home and his trade at Nazareth. 

Miriam had yielded reluctantly to the importunity of 
her sons in this matter, not agreeing with them in their 
judgment of Jesus, and yet sorely perplexed by his course. 
Certainly she had expected a great career for her first- 
born. She had not stored up in her heart the wonders of 
his birth only to forget them when he came to manhood ; 
though naturally, the simple, lowly humanity of her son 
during the long years of his home life had obscured for 
her in part the surpassing significance of those early 
scenes. But in none of her dreams had she pictured such 
a career for him as that he had chosen ; on the contrary, 
with a woman’s conservatism in religion, she found it very 
hard to believe that the path of truth and duty could 
possibly lead one into defiance of established religious 
authorities. So when James and the other brothers main- 
tained that Jesus was beside himself, and should be 
checked in his course and brought back to Nazareth for 
his own good, while she could not find it in her heart 
to agree with them, yet in her perplexity and distress she 
was not without the fear that she had made a mistake in 
relating to Jesus as he came to manhood the incidents 
of his birth. Who could tell but that these narratives 
had really unbalanced his mind?” 

Early the following morning a great throng, including 
the scribes from the Holy City and other Pharisees, 
hastened to gather about Jesus. So unseasonably and so 
unceremoniously did they come, that neither Jesus nor his 
host had opportunity to eat his morning meal ; while the 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


279 


family from Nazareth, on their arrival at the. house, found 
access impossible, not only the dwelling, but the very 
street for some distance, being full of people. 

Knowing what was in the minds of all, Jesus addressed 
himself to the foul charge of alliance with the powers of 
darkness. He began with no little severity and indigna- 
tion. He said : — 

“ Every kingdom divided against itself is brought to 
desolation ; and every city or house divided against itself 
shall not stand : and if Satan caste th out Satan, he is 
divided against himself ; how then shall his kingdom 
stand? And if I by Beelzebub cast out demons, by whom 
do your sons cast them out ? therefore shall they be your 
judges. But if I by the Spirit of God cast out demons, 
then is the kingdom of God come upon you. Or how can 
one enter into the house of a strong man and spoil his 
goods, except he first bind the strong man ? and then he 
will spoil his house.” 

Thoma, looking over the audience, could see that these 
incisive words had reached the mark. Men looked at each 
other in approval, while the mortification of the Pharisees, 
not indeed at the falseness of their charge, but at the 
manifest failure of their plot to rob their opponent of 
popular support, could be read in their faces. The tones 
of Jesus became yet graver as he proceeded. The Phari- 
sees were on very dangerous ground in accusing Jesus of 
Satanic agency, after all that they knew of him, and of 
the gracious and beneficent character of his life and work. 
“Verily I say unto you,” the Lord continued solemnly, 
“ Every sin and blasphemy shall be forgiven unto men ; 
but the blasphemy against the Holy Spirit shall not be for- 
given. And whosoever shall speak a word against the 
Son of man, it shall be forgiven him ; but whosoever shall 
speak against the Holy Spirit, it shall not be forgiven him, 
neither in this world, nor in that which is to come.” 


280 


EMMANUEL ; 


Then, after an allusion to the fact that a good tree is 
needful for the production of good fruit, came a stern de- 
nunciation of those unscrupulous leaders who possessed 
neither true righteousness nor desire for it. 

“Ye offspring of vipers, how can ye, being evil, speak 
good things ? for out of the abundance of the heart the 
mouth speaketh. The good man out of his good treasure 
bringeth forth good things : and the evil man out of his 
evil treasure bringeth forth evil things. And I say unto 
you, that every idle word that men shall speak, they shall 
give account thereof in the day of judgment.” 

The Pharisees were obliged to endure this fearful ar- 
raignment as best they might ; for the people were plainly 
with the speaker. It would be worse than idle at that 
time to attempt violence in gratification of the wrath flam- 
ing within them ; but possibly guile might be effective. 
Possibly they could lead their antagonist to deeds or say- 
ings that would discredit him with the people, or bring 
him under the ban of the Tetrarch. So, in pretended 
expostulation, but with studied civility, one of them said 
to him, “ Rabbi, we would see a sign from thee.” 

Thoma detected instantly the hypocritical ring in this 
demand. What utter wickedness was this ! he thought 
indignantly. These men knew the Master had wrought 
works such as had not been seen in Israel for over nine 
centuries ; they knew that demons had been cast out ; 
sickness of every description, not excepting leprosy, cured ; 
and, greatest and most wonderful of all, even the dead 
had been raised — what more would they ? Could they ask 
greater works than these ? 

In the Master’s reply sternness was now associated with 
sadness rather than indignation. 

“ An evil and adulterous generation,” he said, “ seeketh 
after a sign ; and there shall no sign be given to it but the 
sign of Jonah the prophet; for as Jonah was three days 


THE STORY OF THE ^ MESSIAH. 


281 


and three nights in the belly of the whale, so shall the Son 
of man be three days and three nights in the heart of the 
earth. The men of Nineveh shall stand up in the judgment 
with this generation, and shall condemn it ; for they re- 
pented at the preaching of Jonah ; and behold, a greater 
than Jonah is here.” 

Meanwhile the brethren of the Lord, in the throng with- 
out the door, found means to acquaint the people within of 
their presence. One of those by the entrance called out 
to Jesus, “Behold thy mother and thy brethren stand 
without, seeking to speak to thee.” But Jesus, aware of 
their mission, made no haste to go to them. 

“Who is my mother?” he replied, “and who are my 
brethren? Behold,” pointing to the disciples, “ my mother 
and my brethren ! For wdiosoever shall do the will of my 
Father who is in heaven, he is my brother, and sister, and 
mother.” 

Jesus had not forgotten his mother ; but neither had he 
forgotten his Father. ' • 

When the audience had been dismissed, the Lord, with 
blended dignity and affection, received his mother and 
brethren, and the latter had opportunity to expostulate 
with him. The interview, however, was as fruitless as it 
was painful, — fruitless, because he wiio knew himself to be 
commissioned by God could not yield to entreaties, even 
of those nearest to him, which would turn him from the 
divinely marked path of duty; painful, because those who 
that day found themselves differing widely in their con- 
victions and cherished aims were at the same time bound 
together by ties of close affection. 

In the afternoon, a sad farewell having been said to his 
family as they set out for Nazareth again, he went down to 
the lake shore, followed it southward for a mile or two, and 
then seated himself on the beach. And there, before long, 
notwithstanding the distance from the town, the ever ready 


282 


EMMANUEL ; 


throng found him, and in increasing numbers, the news 
of his discomfiture of the Rabbis in the morning having 
spread far and wide, pressed upon him to bear him speak. 
Remembering that Peter’s boat was moored on the hither 
side of the town, Jesus despatched the latter for it, and 
on its arrival, as on a memorable occasion in the spring, 
went into it with the twelve, and taught the multitude, 
the disciples keeping the boat in position a few feet from 
the shore. The imagery of his discourse was taken largely 
from the scenes around him. At his left stretched away 
the fertile plain of Gennesaret, irrigated by several streams 
and by the great fountain of Capernaum in the hills a little 
to the north, whose waters were brought around the bluff 
to the plain by a rock-hewn channel. The prominent 
feature of its expanse at that season was the tilled fields, 
where, the fall storms having moistened the earth, and the 
plough broken it up, the husbandmen were at work putting 
in the earlier grain. 

“ Hearken,” said Jesus : “ Behold the sower went forth 
to sow ; and it came to pass, as he sowed, some seed fell 
by the wayside, and the birds came and devoured it. And 
other fell on the rocky ground where it had not much 
earth ; and straightway it sprang up, because it had no 
deepness of earth ; and when the sun was risen, it was 
scorched ; and because it had no root, it withered away. 
And other fell among the thorns, and the thorns grew up, 
and choked it, and it yielded no fruit. And others fell 
into the good ground, and yielded fruit, growing up and 
increasing ; and brought forth, thirty-fold, and sixty-fold, 
and an hundred-fold. Who hath ears to hear, let him 
hear. 

‘ ‘ The kingdom of heaven is likened unto a man that 
sowed good seed in his field ; but while men slept, his enemy 
came and sowed tares also among the wheat, and went 
away. But when the blade sprang up, and brought forth 


THE STOUT OF THE 31ESSIAH. 


283 


fruit, then appeared the tares also. And the servants of 
the householder came and said unto him, Sir, didst thou 
not sow good seed in thy field? AVhence then hath it 
tares? And he said unto them. An enemy hath done this. 
And the servants say unto him. Wilt thou then that we 
go and gather them up? But he saith. Nay; lest haply 
while ye gather up the tares, ye root up the wheat with 
them. Let both grow together until the harvest ; and in 
the time of the harvest I will say unto the reapers. Gather 
up first the tares and bind them in bundles to burn them ; 
but gather the wheat into my barn. 

“So is the kingdom of God, as if a man should cast 
seed upon the earth ; and should sleep and rise night and 
day, and the seed should spring up and grow, he knoweth 
not how. The earth beareth fruit of herself ; first the 
blade, then the ear, then the full corn in the ear. But 
when the fruit is ripe, straightway he putteth forth the 
sickle, because the harvest is come. 

“How shall we liken the kingdom of God? or in w'hat 
parable shall we set it forth ? It is like a grain of 
mustard seed, which a man took and sowed in his field ; 
which, indeed, is less than all seeds ; but when it is 
growm, it is greater than the herbs, and becometh a tree, 
so that the birds of the heaven come and lodge in the 
branches thereof. 

“ The kingdom of heaven is like unto leaven,' which a 
woman took, and hid in three measures of meal, till it was 
all leavened.’" 

And so the Lord proceeded with his singular discourse, 
parable following parable without interpretation. His 
followers were perplexed by this new style of teaching ; 
why did the Master speak to the people in a way that even 
the disciples could not understand ? 

Toward evening, Jesus, almost exhausted, finally, by 
the stress of the long day, dismissed the people again, and 


284 


EMMANUEL ; 


directed the twelve to row across to the farther shore. 
There, on territory half heathen, he might hope to be free 
for a while from the besetting crowds and their impor- 
tunity. The moment they were well away from the beach 
the question in the minds of the disciples found expression. 

“ Master, why speakest thou unto them in parables? ” 

“Unto you,” was the reply, “ is given the mystery of 
the kingdom of God ; but unto them that are without, all 
things are done in parables ; that seeing they may see, and 
not perceive ; and liearing they may hear, and not under- 
stand ; lest haply they should turn again, and it should be 
forgiven them.” 

This reply was not, indeed, entirely intelligible to those 
who heard it ; but it was not nearly so strange to those 
early disciples as to some modern followers of Jesus. It 
did not seem unreasonable to them that the doctrines of 
the Gospel should be sacred mysteries, hidden from the 
view of the indifferent and the gross of heart, and open 
only to earnest seekers after truth ; and that these specially 
chosen ones might see why it was that, in the vast numbers 
thronging about him, so few became permanent disciples, 
he added the interpretation of the first parable, notwith- 
standing his w^eariness. 

“ Hear ye the parable of the sower. When any one 
heareththe word of the kingdom, and understandeth it not, 
then cometh the evil one, and snatcheth away that which 
hath been sown in his heart. This is he that was sown 
by the wayside. And he that was sown upon the rocky 
places, this is he that heareth the W'ord, and straightway 
with joy receiveth it ; yet hath he not root in himself, but 
endureth for a while ; and when tribulation or persecution 
ariseth because of the word, straightway he stumbleth. 
And he that was sown among the thorns, this is he that 
heareth the word ; and the care of the world, and the 
deceitfulness of riches, choke the word, and he becometh 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


285 


unfruitful. And he that was sown upon the good ground, 
this is he that heareth the word and understandeth it ; 
who verily heareth fruit, and hringeth forth, some an 
hundred-fold, some sixty, some thirty. If any man hath 
ears to hear, let him hear. Take heed what ye hear ; with 
what measure ye mete it shall be measured unto you ; and 
more shall be given unto you. For he that hath, to him 
shall be given : and he that hath not, from him shall be 
taken away even that which he hath.” 

A silence, broken only by the sound of the oars and the 
wash of the waves, ensued. Gradually the shadows of 
evening crept out from the western shore over the water ; 
and the Galilaean hills and mountains grew dark, great 
Hermon in the north, with snow newly draped, showing 
over them like a dome of frosted silver. Most of the 
many boats on the lake turned their prows toward the 
shore, the royal barge of the Tetrarch, richly canopied, 
draped with silks and the skins of tropical animals, and 
propelled by the stout arms of a company of Ethiopian 
slaves, rushing across the wake of the disciples. It was on 
its way to the marble pier where Tiberias’ princely palaces 
were reflected in broken outline in the lake’s rippling sur- 
face ; and, in its passage, made the Master’s humble craft, 
though a royal vessel in truth, appear very small and mean. 

Jesus, glad of a chance to rest, wrapped himself in a 
large, outer cloak, and, with the steerman’s cushion for a 
pillow, laid himself down in the stern of the boat, where, 
before long, the quiet, rhythmical motion, the monotonous 
sound of the oars, and the musical lapping of the wavelets 
on the side of the boat soothed his tired nerv^es and put 
him into a deep sleep. For nearly an hour he slept on, 
while the disciples pulled vigorously, but silently, across 
the quiet water, in whose depths for some time the darken- 
ing forms of the mountains could be seen reproduced in 
broken and changeful outline. 


286 


EMMANUEL ; 


Suddenly, while they were yet some distance from their 
destination, a gust of cold air sweeping by caused them to 
look up the lake in alarm. Their anxiety was fully justi- 
fied. The dark forms of the great volcanic cliffs to the 
north-east were entirely obscured, the only thing visible in 
the deep darkness in that direction being an ominous line 
of white on the water-level. There was no mistaking the 
well- known signs ; ^ tempest was upon them. They had 
just time to head the boat toward the coming storm before 
it reached them, and churned the quiet water to foam in its 
fury. The white-capped billows rose at its blows, fol- 
lowed at racing speed in its train, and, in spite of every 
effort of the stout and experienced fishermen, bounded over 
the bows and sides of the little vessel. There was not 
much rain, but the air was full of flying spray, which shut 
out everything from view but the foaming waves. The 
sturdy oarsmen battled manfully with these, hoping that 
their worst fury would be over in a few minutes, — but 
hoping in vain. Despite all their efforts the boat settled 
lower and lower, the water leaping over the sides faster 
than the men not at work at the oars could bail it out. 
And all the time, ummindful of the roar of the storm and 
the tossing of the boat, Jesus lay in the stern, lost in sleep. 
What was to be done? Peter, who could not leave his 
oar, shouted to Thoma to awaken the Lord. 

“ Master, carest thou not that we perish ? ” cried Thoma, 
laying his hand on Jesus. 

The latter awoke immediately, and looked at his disci- 
ples, then beyond over the raging expanse. 

“ Master, master, we perish ! ” burst from Peter’s lips, as 
another billow leaped over the side. 

Jesus raised himself, and gazed into the darkness from 
which the storm seemed to come. 

“Peace, be still,” he said, with quiet imperiousness. 

The effect was instantaneous, and, to the beholders, as- 


TUB STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


287 


tonnding. The wind ceased ; the great waves, no longer 
lashed by an unseen power, diminished in height, and soon 
became little more than ripples ; while overhead the surg- 
ing masses of vapour passed away altogether, and the bril- 
liant stars and a crescent moon reigned undisputed over a 
scene of peace unbroken. 

“ Why are ye fearful, O ye of little faith?” said Jesus 
in his usual kindly tone, to the terrified disciples, — ter- 
rified as much, perhaps, by their deliverance as by the 
tempest. But the inquiry was lost on them in their amaze- 
ment. 

“ 'NYhat manner of man is this,” they exclaimed under 
their breath, as, mechanically, they resumed their rowing, 
“ that even the winds and the sea obey him? ” 

They had forgotten the command of their Master to the 
dead man at Nain. 

On reaching the shore the party succeeded, with the aid 
of a fire and their heavy fishermen’s cloaks, in passing the 
night not uncomfortably, in spite of the cool air and the 
damp ground. Many times that night, before sleep visited 
his eyes, did the son of Salmon repeat the amazed inquiry, 
“ What manner of man is this? ” The question naturally 
brought back the other astonishing works of his Lord ; but 
still there was a peculiar power, a manifest divinity in the 
Lord, in the miracle of the night which filled him with awe. 
Not until his fixed regard of the lustrous stars had car- 
ried his thoughts back to Bethlehem, and the descending 
heavenly glory by the sheepfold, did he find an event in 
his Master’s career which seemed at all like the wonder of 
this night. 

In the morning the company started for the neighbour- 
ing town of Gergesa ; but it was never reached. Their 
boat had been left but a short distance behind, when they 
encountered a demoniac of the most revolting description. 
The unclean spirit in the unfortunate man had impelled 


288 


EMMANUEL ; 


him to cut himself with stones, and to tear every remnant 
of clothing from his body, at the same time giving him a 
strength which none could overcome, and before which 
bonds had invariably proved ropes of sand. From one of 
the tombs on the mountain side, amidst the corruption and 
foul odours of which was his chosen home, the poor creature 
came running to Jesus. 

“ What have I to do with thee, Jesus, thou Son of the 
Most High God ? ” he cried, prostrating himself. 

• A look of compassion came over the face of Jesus as 
he spoke. 

“ Come forth, thou” — 

“ I adjure thee by God, torment me not,” broke in the 
demoniac. 

“ What is thy name? ” asked Jesus. 

“ My name is Legion; for we are many. We beseech 
thee, send us not forth out of the country, nor into the 
abyss ; if thou cast us out, send us away into the herd of 
swine, that we may enter into them.” 

Thoma heard the strange request, and cast his eyes on 
the mountain side, where he saw a large herd of swine 
feeding. As he looked, he heard the stern command from 
Jesus, — 

“ Go.” 

Forthwith the man was thrown to the earth in a convul- 
sion, while the swine were seized with a panic, and, rush- 
ing violently down the steep incline, and across the beach, 
were drowned in the lake. The herdsmen, scarcely less 
startled than their beasts, fled to the town, and told their 
story. When the towns-people, flocking out, beheld in 
the water the carcasses of the swine, and, sitting at the 
feet of Jesus, the former demoniac, in his right mind and 
covered with the cloak of one of the disciples, they were 
filled with astonishment and fear. It was well for the 
safety of the great Healer that fear restrained them ; for 


THE STOEY OF THE MESSIAH. 


289 


the Gergesenes by no means approved of the miracle just 
wrought. They were of that large class which values 
property more highly than men ; they did not wish any 
more demoniacs cured at such expense. Fear restrained 
criticism, but with one accord they united in beseeching 
Jesus to depart from their borders ; and he, though grieved 
at their hardness of heart, complied without, demur. 
Nature, disease, and the powers of darkness owned his 
sway ; it was the privilege of the human heart alone to 
refuse such acknowledgment. 

The restored man would gladly have followed Jesus 
into the boat ; but the Master refused him the coveted 
boon of discipleship. There was other work for him ; in 
a certain way he was to be an apostle instead. 

“ Go to thy house unto thy friends,” was the charge 
given to him, “ and tell them how great things the Lord 
hath done for thee, and how He had mercy on thee.” 

The command, in striking contrast with the injunctions 
hitherto laid upon recipients of the Lord’s favours, was an 
anticipation of more specific missionary commissions soon 
to be given to other followers of Jesus. Well did the 
man obey his Lord ; before many days all the adjacent 
part of the Decapolis was filled with the fame of Jesus. 

The return to Capernaum in the cool morning air was 
very pleasant and refreshing; and for a couple of hours 
Jesus was able to rest. When, however, the boat touclied 
the farther shore, the multitude, already on the lookout 
for the great Rabbi, surrounded him again. Through it, 
forcing his way in such haste as to allow of slight cour- 
tesy to bystanders, came a well-known ruler of the syna- 
gogue, Jairus by name, who threw himself at the feet of 
Jesus. 

“ Rabbi,” he cried, “ my little daughter is at the point 
of death : I pray thee that thou come and lay thy hands 
on her, that she may be made whole and live.” 


290 


EMMANUEL ; 


Jesus went with the suppliant without delay, the dis- 
ciples following and the multitude thronging him. Thoma 
had gone but a few steps when he was startled by a 
salutation in a familiar voice. 

“ Judah, Judah, the Lord bless thee, my brother ! ” 

Turning about he found himself, to his great joy, face 
to face with Asahel. Returning the latter’s salutation, he 
immediately inquired for his mother. 

“ She is here, my brother, yonder, close to the Master. 
Since we arrived yesterday, she hath had eyes for him 
only.” 

“ Were ye with us yesterday, Asahel? ” 

‘‘Yea, truly; but the Master was in the boat, and the 
press was great ; so we met neither him nor thee.” 

Thoma said no more ; it was difficult to talk in the 
jostling crowd ; but he and his brother managed to keep 
within a few feet of their mother. Presently, to their sur- 
prise, they saw her stoop, raise the tassel of Jesus’ tallith 
to her lips, and then lift her hands toward heaven as though 
in prayer. 

“Who touched my garments?” said Jesus turning 
around. 

“ Lord,” said Peter, “ thou seest the multitude thronging 
thee, and sayest thou, Who touched me ? ” 

But Jesus only reiterated his demand. Elisabeth, see- 
ing that she would certainly be discovered, came trembling 
to her Lord’s feet, and told him the story of her long afflic- 
tion, and of her confidence that could she but touch the 
hem of his garment she would be made whole. A look of 
mingled joy and affection — a look never to be forgotten 
by any upon whom it was bestowed — lit up the face of 
the Redeemer. 

“ Daughter,” he said, “thy faith hath saved thee; go 
in peace, and be whole of thy plague.” 

He lifted her to her feet, aud, her two sons coming for- 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH, 


291 


'Wfircl at the moment, delivered her to them ; then turned 
quickly around, as a message came from the house of the 
ruler. 

“ Thy daughter is dead,” the servant said to Jairus ; 
“ why troublest thou the Master any further?” 

The quick sympathy of Jesus checked the rising cry of 
the grief-stricken father. 

“ Fear not,” he said, “ only believe.” 

At the ruler’s house the tumult of mourning for the dead 
had already commenced. As usual, the natural lamenta- 
tion of the family was reenforced by the wailing and weep- 
ing of hired mourners, and the shrill notes of flutes and 
horns. With the anxious, but wondering, Jairus, and 
three of the twelve, Simon, James, and John, Jesus entered 
the house. 

“Why make ye a tumult and weep?” he said to the 
noisy crowd within ; “ the child is not dead but sleepeth.” 
The mourners scoffed at him. But he turned them all out 
of the house, and, adding only the mother of the little girl 
to their number, went into the inner room. There lay the 
lifeless form of a young girl of about twelve years. With 
that Arm gentleness and that quiet authority which was all 
his own, Jesus took her by the hand and said, — 

“ Little girl, arise.” 

The child obeyed ; as readily and naturally as though 
her awaking were from ordinary sleep, and not from that 
of death, she stood up, and walked to her mother. The 
amazement of her parents was unbounded ; in fact, it so 
possessed their minds that Jesus was obliged to remind 
them that after the damsel’s sickness and fast she was in 
need of food. Then, charging them to tell no one of the 
miracle, he took his departure. 

Midwinter now had come. Through the thunder-storms, 
foo*, and occasional snows the Master had laboured con- 

O / 


292 


EmiANUEL ; 


stantly to continue the work of the summer and fall, to 
carry far and wide through the land the proclamation of 
the kingdom and to attest it with divine proofs, yet always 
avoiding excitements which enmity could construe into 
incipient insurrection. In the intervals of fine weather, 
the multitude still gathered about him ; as he viewed them, 
they appeared to him as sheep without a shepherd. 

“ The harvest,” he exclaimed, “ truly is plenteous, but 
the labourers are few. Pray ye therefore the Lord of the 
harvest that He send forth labourers into His harvest.” 
Jesus, therefore, proceeded to commission the twelve to 
go forth to preach and to heal in the towns and cities of 
Galilee, independently of himself. 

“ Go not,” he said, “ into any way of the Gentiles, and 
enter not into any city of the Samaritans ; but go rather to 
the lost sheep of the house of Israel. And as ye go, 
preach, saying. The kingdom of heaven is at hand. Heal 
the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out de- 
mons : freely ye received, freely give. Get you no gold, 
nor silver, nor brass in your purses, no wallet for your 
journey, neither two coats, nor shoes ; but a staff only : 
for the labourer is worthy of his food.” 

He instructed them further as to what houses they should 
enter on arriving at a town, and how to treat those who 
received them, and those who did not. In some respects 
the charge to the twelve had little strangeness for those to 
whom it was addressed. It was in entire keeping with the 
customs of a country where hospitality was universal ; but 
the uniqueness and the importance of the message to be 
proclaimed, and the astonishing character of the power 
bestowed on the messengers, were in no respect less calcu- 
lated to excite wonder and ejzultation then than now. 
Never before had the land of Israel been traversed by 
heralds who could support such tidings with such proofs ; 
who brought with them such a royal invitation, and dis- 
pensed precious gifts with such liberal hands. 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


293 


Shortly after the departure of the twelve, Jesus and his 
remaining disciples were joined by a group of men bringing 
sorrowful news. This was that Herod Antipas had added 
to the list of his crimes by beheading John the Baptist, 
thus bringing the career of the wilderness preacher to a 
bloody and, as it then seemed, untimely end. The men 
were the disciples of John, who had just buried the dead 
form of their master, and were come to attach themselves 
thenceforth to Jesus. They told how, at a riotous feast 
given by Herod to his courtiers and army officers, the 
Tetrarch had been greatly delighted by the shameless 
dancing of his niece, daughter of his present wife, Hero- 
dias, and, in a rash moment, had promised the girl what- 
ever she might ask. At the instigation of her mother, who 
had never forgotten John’s uncompromising condemnation 
of her adulterous connection with Herod, the daughter had 
demanded the head of John the Baptist in a charger ; and 
the Tetrarch, to avoid shame before his lords, had overcome 
Lis fear of John as a prophet, and sent the executioner to 
his cell ; and the Baptist’s life and -work were over. 

Rumour was not slow in continuing the story by recount- 
ing Herod’s uneasiness afterward, on hearing of the great 
works of Jesus. 

“John I beheaded,” he exclaimed in a startled way; 
“ but who is this about whom I hear such things?” 

With the increase of Jesus’ fame, the guilty conscience 
of the monarch furnished him with a fearful answer to his 
query. When those about him debated whether the Man 
from Nazareth were Elijah or a new prophet, Herod shook 
his head. 

“ This,” he said with awe and dread, “ is John the Bap- 
tist ; he is risen from the dead ; and therefore do these 
powers work in him.” 


294 


MilMANUEL ; 


CHAPTER XX. 

THE CRISIS.* 

O bread to pilgrims given, 

O food that angels eat, 

O manna, sent from heaven, 

For heaven-born natures meet 
Give us, for thee long pining, 

To eat till richly filled; 

Till, earth’s delights resigning. 

Our every wish is stilled. 

C Unknown Mediaeval Author.) 

T he third spring of the Lord’s public career came 
round ; blue skies, balmy airs, and abundant ver- 
dure returned to the fair land of Geunesaret ; and 
still the twelve continued their missionary journeys in the 
hill-country of Galilee. The bright days brought greater 
throngs to Jesus, — throngs which it was hard to avoid, and 
whose enthusiasm it was increasingly hard to restrain. If 
the tide of popular excitement continued to rise, it was 
evident that the day w*hen it would break all barriers was 
not far distant. 

At last, just before the harvest, on the eve of the Pass- 
over, the twelve returned to the Lord, weary, but enthu- 
siastic over the successes of their tour. They found him in 
Capernaum, surrounded by a crowd so persistent and exact- 
ing that Jesus had not time to eat. 

“ Come ye yourselves apart into a desert place, and rest 
awhile,” he said to the tired apostles. 

Disengaging himself, almost forcibly, from the multitude, 
he led them to a boat, in which the party were secure, for 
a time, from popular importunity, and, as they passed over 
toward the uninhabited region east of Bethsaida Julias, had 


1 Matt. xiv. 13-xvi. 12; John vi. 22-71 ; Mark viii. 22-26. 


TUE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


295 


opportunity for rest and quiet converse. The hope of the 
like beyond the lake, however, proved utterly delusive, as 
they saw the moment they climbed the hill above the beach. 
The multitude was there before them. While they had 
rowed leisurely across the water, the people, surmising their 
destination, had gone around on the shore,* crowds from 
Chorazin and the two Bethsaidas joining them on the way, 
and had actually arrived before the boat. The twelve were 
greatly annoyed at this unexpected development ; but their 
Master, though much more weary than they, was moved to 
compassion rather than vexation. Again the great and 
motley concourse reminded him of sheep without a shepherd ; 
and, going to meet the people, he healed their sick, and with 
unfailing patience and earnestness sat down and taught 
them. 

With the decline of the sun in the west, the disciples 
became anxious. The people, they perceived, had lost all 
thought of food in their interest in Jesus. If not dismissed 
speedily, they would suffer from hunger before reaching 
their homes, and the blame would doubtless be laid on the 
Master. Moreover, the feast of unleavened bread, which, 
unlike the Passover, was not confined to Jerusalem, would 
begin at sunset, and the people would better then be at 
home. 

“ The place is desert, and the day is now far spent,” said 
the twelve to Jesus at the first opportunity ; “ send them 
away, that they may go into the country and villages round 
about, and buy themselves somewhat to eat.” 

“ Give ye them to eat,” was his reply. 

“ Shall we go,” Philip exclaimed in amazement, “and buy 
two hundred shillings’ worth of bread, and give them to eat ? ” 

“ How many loaves have ye? Go and see,” said Jesus. 

“ There is a lad here,” Andrew reported presently, “ who 
hath five barley loaves and two fishes ; but what are these 
among so many ? ” 


296 


EMMANUEL ; 


“ Make the people sit down,” was the quiet response. 

The spot was a grassy one- at that season; and soon, 
under the direction of the wondering disciples, the vast 
throng, over five thousand strong, was seated on the grass, 
in companies of hundreds and fifties. Then, standing in 
the' sight of all, with the diminutive store of food before 
him, Jesus looked up* to heaven, and gave thanks to God 
for Ilis bounty. Next he broke both bread and fishes, and 
handed them to the disciples for distribution to the people. 
It seemed an idle thing to do, for the food was scarcely 
enough for a score ; nevertheless, the twelve did as they 
w'ere bidden. On returning to the Master, they found his 
store undiminished. It was the same after their second 
distribution. At this their perplexity changed to awe ; for 
plainly another mighty work was in progress ; and with the 
substitution internally of believing expectancy for doubt, 
came a new power externally. They were amazed to find 
that they no longer needed to return to Jesus for new sup- 
plies ; for in some unaccountable way the food continued 
in their hands unexhausted as they passed from rank to 
rank. 

“ Gather up the broken pieces which remain over, that 
nothing be lost,” said Jesus, when all had been satisfied. 

These, when fully collected, were found to fill twelve 
baskets. 

Gradually the multitude also became aware of the great 
miracle wrought before their eyes, — a miracle which all were 
prepared to appreciate, since all were the recipients of its 
bounty. Men began to say to each other, with greater 
positiveness and unanimity than ever before, and perhaps 
with a strong appreciation of the extreme usefulness of the 
providing power of Jesus in victualling an army, “ This, of 
a truth, is the prophet that cometh into the world. Why 
delay we longer ? Why raise we not the standard of Israel 
and the Messiah at once ? ” 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


297 


The Master saw that a few minutes^ waiting would brin<2: 

o o 

him the crown of his people ; therefore he waited not. Per- 
ceiving that if he allowed the men already in excited con- 
sultation to discover how widely their words were approved 
by the multitude generally, the people would rise, and, with 
one accord and loud acclamations, proclaim him King of 
Israel, he bade his disciples take the boat and go without 
him to the farther Bethsaida, and then, turning to the 
people, peremptorily commanded them to return to their 
homes. Both disciples and multitude obeyed, but very re- 
luctantly, — the former being loath to leave their Master, as 
it seemed, without reason ; the latter unwilling to lose such 
an opportunity of crowning the Messiah. No alternative 
seemed at hand for the throng, however ; for no one dared 
put himself forward as an insurrectionary leader in uncer- 
tainty as to the feeling of the people at large. On the way 
to Bethsaida, a part of the crowd, gaining confidence from 
consultation, turned around and came back to the place of 
the miracle, seeking Jesus, — but in vain. He had dis- 
appeared. Knowing that he had not left on the only boat 
there in the afternoon, they sought for him till dark, and 
even renewed their quest in the morning; but without 
avail. 

The return of the twelve on that day — the day of prep- 
aration for the Passover — made a period in his life-work. 
Hitherto he had laboured to spread the knowledge of the 
Gospel to the utmost extent, and to make his disciples as 
numerous as possible ; in fact, to enlist, so far as could be, 
all Israel among his followers. But that endeavour could 
not be, on any wide scale, continued longer. The increas- 
ing intensity of popular feeling made it impossible. To 
continue his work as heretofore was plainly to invite a 
revolutionary outbreak in his name. Already, within an 
hour, a crown had been within his reach. He might accept 
it ; he might deliver Israel. The people did not at all over- 
estimate his power. But Jesus knew how superficial, how 


298 


EMMANUEL ; 


truly small, would be any dominion so won. Once before, 
in the wilderness, he had met this temptation to win the 
earth by force and guile, the chosen means of Satan, and 
had overcome it. The real temptation now lay, not in the 
attractiveness of the offered crown, but in its terrible 
alternative. This, dreadful as it was, could not be avoided. 
Had he not seen and chosen it at the outset of his career? 
Could he falter in the doing of his Father’s will? No ! the 
popular excitement must be checked ; the preeminently 
spiritual and ethical character of his kingdom must be un- 
mistakably declared, even though thereby the people were 
alienated. The crowds must be winnowed, even though 
the process would, as he clearly saw, leave him but a hand- 
ful of followers. 

But what then? He knew how terrible the vengeance 
of a disappointed populace might be. He saw in clear 
perspective the triumphant arrogance of the Pharisees. He 
realized that he was about to place himself in a position 
where, at last, nothing would stand between him and the 
malevolence of a despotic priesthood. The end might be 
delayed for a little while, but it would surely and speedily 
come. 

Meanwhile the sun sank below the western hills, leaving: 
their hither slopes in shadow, and clothing the heavens above 
them with surpassing splendour, — a splendour repeated in 
the placid bosom of the lake. The farther horizon was 
ablaze with golden light, whose radiance streamed upward 
in mighty rivers and made the upper sky a sea of glory. 
Shortly the gold receded westward ; the sea of light grew 
less luminous. Then the glory left the upper sky alto- 
gether ; the vaporous masses there lost the transforming 
touch of the golden light, and in dark banks moved across 
the pale green and gray heavens like huge spectres por- 
tending disaster. There was now a grave, almost sad, 
beauty ; but the splendour was gone. Were the heavens 


THE STOBY OF THE MESSEiU, 


299 


themselves portraying to the Messiah the character of the 
choice he had made? While he watched, the light sank 
to the horizon, till it was little more than a stripe of crim- 
son, — a stripe growing momently duller and more blood- 
red in hue. At the same time, more swiftly, and closer 
together, the threatening cloud-masses came surging up 
from the sea, now evidently driven by some tempest unfelt 
as yet on the shores of the lake. Soon they shut out 
altogether the dying light in the west, and the storm broke 
in full force upon Galilee and Gaulanitis. It was chiefly 
of wind, but its fury was terrific. It raged over the 
mountain slopes as though possessed by a demon ; swept 
across the face of the lake, lashing it till it was white with 
foam ; and drove the clouds along overhead in swift and 
crowded succession, — yet it brought little discomfort to 
Jesus. Its violence soothed his troubled spirit ; there was 
in the natural tempest a symbolism of that greater storm 
which was soon to break upon his life. As the former 
was under the control of his Father in heaven, so would 
the latter be ; and beyond the fearful night of its close, 
beyond that cross toward which he had that day taken the 
first direct step, would appear a morning of heavenly glory. 

It was not strange surely that, at this crisis of his career, 
Jesus should feel the need of solitary communion with his 
heavenly Father ; nor that three of the four watches of 
the night should pass away before he left his retreat on 
the lonely mountain side and came to the relief of his 
wearied and almost despairing disciples, whose little ves- 
sel at intervals, as fitful gleams from the obscured Pass- 
over moon revealed it, he had seen for hours, tossed about 
hither and thither, the sport of the great white-capped 
billows. The twelve had toiled all night against a con- 
trary wind, making little headway, yet not daring to go 
about and run before the wind. Many were the wishes, 
expressed and unexpressed, that the Master had accom- 


300 


EMMANUEL ; 


panied them, all feeling that then they would be safe, 
whatever the might of the storm. It did not once occur 
to them that as in a former storm they had learned their 
Lord’s power to help when present, so now they were to 
discover his ability to come to their rescue from a distance. 
They were almost exhausted with the continuous toil, when 
suddenly Thoma, who with Nathanael and Judah of Kerioth 
had been put to the oars, notwithstanding their lack of 
skill, stopped his rowing. 

“ Ha! ” he exclaimed, pointing away over the tempest- 
uous water, “ what is that? ” 

A great wave striking his oar and sending a deluge of 
spray into the boat alone seemed ready to reply. Its 
forcible admonition to renewed labour was heeded ; but 
his eyes and the eyes of all were fixed in the direction 
indicated. Presently the others saw what had startled 
him. It was the white-robed figure of a man walking on the 
water, and calmly and astonishingly indifferent to the driv- 
ing storm. The course it was taking would carry it across 
their wake, and not far from the boat. With cries of dismay, 
and animated with terror at what they took to be a spirit, 
the men rowed with fresh vigour ; whereupon the figure, 
now very near, turned toward them with uplifted hand. 

“Be of good cheer,” came to them in the well-known 
voice of the Master ; “ it is I ; be not afraid.” 

“Lord,” cried Peter, springing to his feet, “if it be 
thou, bid me come unto thee upon the waters.” 

“Come,” said Jesus. 

Peter leaped over the side of the boat, and with a 
security like to his Lord’s walked on the water toward 
Jesus. He had nearly reached the latter when, in his 
exultation over his newly gained power, he took his eyes 
from Jesus’ face, and looked around on the angry watery 
expanse. The sight was well calculated to cause dismay ; 
Peter’s heart failed him, and he began to sink. 


THE STOllY OF THE MESSIAH. 


301 


“ Lord, save me ! ” lie cried out in terror. 

Jesus stepped forward with outstretched hand and 
caught him. 

“ O thou of little faith,” was the former’s gentle rebuke, 
“ wherefore didst thou doubt? ” 

As the two stepped into the boat, the wind went down, 
and with little further urging the vessel floated over almost 
quiet water to the shore, — the upper end of the Gennes- 
aret plain. Then, under a fresh accession of awe, the 
twelve bowed at the Master’s feet. 

“Of a truth,” they exclaimed, “thou art the Son of 
God ! ” 

Mooring the boat, they waited till morning, and then 
debarked ; for the people of the neighbourhood, discovering 
Jesus, besought him to heal their sick. No one watching 
the Lord, as he moved about among the afflicted, his 
touch bringing health and joy as usual, would have sup- 
posed that he had just passed the turning-point in his 
life. But it was otherwise at a later hour when, on return- 
ing to Capernaum, a part of the multitude of the day 
before overtook and accosted him. These were the men 
who had sought for him beyond the lake, partly in 
hope that a kingdom would really be set up, partly 
through desire, in any case, to share in whatever 
new bounties Jesus might have to dispense. Foiled in 
their efforts to find him beyond the lake, they had en- 
gaged certain boats newly arrived from Tiberias to carry 
them back to Capernaum, where they met the Lord as he 
was entering the synagogue. The day, the first of the 
Passover week at Jerusalem, was one of synagogue wor- 
ship throughout the land. 

“ Rabbi,” they said, hurrying up to him, “ when earnest 
thou hither ? 

But the wonderful story of that night, which they 
were so greedy to hear, was not for those in whom it 


302 


EMMANUEL ; 


would awake wrong expectations and lead to mistaken 
action. 

“Verily, verily, I say unto you,’’ was the grave reply, 
“ye seek me, not because ye saw signs, but because ye 
ate of the loaves, and were filled.” 

He said no more at the time, for the people were pour- 
ing into the synagogue, and the hour for worship was 
come. But when he was called upon to teach, he con- 
tinued his rebuke, and gave such of the people as were 
worldly in heart the check needed to dash their ill-founded 
enthusiasm. 

“ Work not, ” he said, “ for the meat which perisheth, 
but for the meat which abideth unto eternal life, which 
the Son of man shall give you ; for him the Father, even 
God, hath sealed.” 

“ What must we do,” broke in one of the auditors, “ that 
we may work the works of God?” 

“ This is the work of God, that ye believe on him whom 
He hath sent.” 

.. Again he was interrupted, this time by Hakana, the 
scribe, who, at the advice of his fellow Sanhedrists had 
remained in Galilee, notwithstanding the Passover. 

“ What then doest thou for a sign, that we may see, and 
believe thee? What workest thou? Our fathers ate the 
manna in the wilderness ; as it is written. He gave them 
bread out of heaven to eat.” 

Jesus did not make the same reply to this call for a sign 
as on a former occasion ; he was concerned now, not with 
the Pharisees, but with the people. 

“ Verily, verily, I say unto you,” he returned, “ It was 
not Moses that gave you the bread out of heaven ; but my 
Father giveth you the true bread out of heaven. For the 
bread of God is that which cometh down out of heaven, and 
giveth life unto the worlcf. 

“ Lord,” exclaimed one of the recipients of his bounty 
of the evening preceding, “ evermore give us this bread.” 


rilE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


303 


Slowly and emphatically came the response. 

“ I am the bread of life ; he that cometh to me shall not 
hunger, and he that believeth on me shall never thirst. But 
I said unto you, that ye have seen me, and yet believe not. 
All that which the Father giveth me shall come unto me ; 
and him that cometh to me, I will in no wise cast out. For 
I am come down from heaven, not to do mine own will, but 
the will of Him that sent me. . . . This is the will of my 
Father, that every one that beholdeth the Son, and believeth 
on him, should have eternal life ; and I will raise him up at 
the last day.’^ 

Already the sermon had given offence. 

“The bread of life, forsooth!” men muttered, “come 
down from heaven is he? Is not this Jesus, the son of 
Joseph, whose father and mother we know. How doth he 
now say, I am come down out of heaven ? ” 

“ Murmur not among yourselves,” the Lord continued, 
looking calmly over the disturbed audience ; “no man can 
come to me except the Father that sent me draw him ; and 
I will raise him up at the last day. 

“ Verily, verily, I say unto you,” he went on, “ He that 
believeth hath eternal life. I AM the bread of life. Your 
fathers did eat the manna in the wilderness, and they died. 
This is the bread which cometh dowm out of heaven ; if any 
man eat of this bread, he shall live forever : yea, and the 
bread which I will give is my flesh, for the life of the 
world.” 

At this bold statement the people became thoroughly ex- 
cited, some troubled, some perplexed, some scornful. 

“ How can this man give us his flesh to eat ? ” w^as plainly 
to be heard in many parts of the room. 

Jesus reiterated his offensive words. 

“ Verily, verily, I say unto you, Except ye eat the flesh 
of the Son of man and drink his blood, ye have not life in 
yourselves. He that eateth my flesh and drinketh my blood 


304 


EMMANUEL ; 


hath eternal life ; and I will raise him np at the last day. 
For my flesh is meat indeed, and my blood is drink indeed, 
lie that eateth my flesh and drinketh my blood abideth in 
me and I in him. As the living Father sent me, and I live 
because of the Father, so he that eateth me, he also shall 
live because of me. This is the bread >vhich came down 
out of heaven ; not as the fathers did eat and died : he that 
eateth this bread shall live forever.” 

Throughout this strange discourse Thoma had listened 
and watched in wonder and dismay. The very obvious 
change in the temper of the congregation, so sudden, and 
on such slight occasion, reminded him of the fierce tempests 
which swept down without warning on the fickle surface of 
the neighbouring lake, for which sheet of water, notwith- 
standing its many attractions, he entertained a great 
distrust. Only yesterday, as he passed the bread to the 
multitude and saw the impression made by the miracle, he 
had exulted in the nearness of the kingdom of heaven ; now 
the people seemed to have forgotten completely that mighty 
work, and to look upon the Redeemer of Israel almost as a 
personal foe. Certainly the Lord’s words were hard to un- 
derstand ; but what then ? Did they consider that he 
whom God had anointed King and Deliverer should say 
nothing beyond their comprehension? Yet even Thoma, 
with all his loyalty, could not repress the query, why Jesus 
should speak such words at a time when a little careful 
management would have placed the crown of Israel on his 
brow. 

The worshippers streamed forth from the synagogue, 
some with faces expressive of bewilderment, some shaking 
their heads in doubt and question, many uttering wrathful 
protests against such presumptuous claims. At the door- 
way Thoma heard the derisive voice of Ilakana, in address 
to an excited group surrounding him. 

“ Said we not unto you, He hath a demon, and caste th 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


305 


out demons by Beelzebub, the prince of demons? And 
veril}’-, ye believed us not. When a people growetli wiser 
than its teachers, verily it becometli a prey to the 
deceiver.” 

Many, even, of the disciples, other than the apostles, 
were offended at what they had heard. A number of them 
gathered in a cluster a little apart, and the exclamation of 
one expressed the general feeling. 

“ This is a hard saying. Who can hear it? ” 

“ Doth this cause you to stumble?” said Jesus sorrow- 
fully. “ What, then, if ye should behold the Son of man 
ascending where he was before? It is the spirit that 
quickeneth ; the flesh profiteth nothing ; the words that I 
speak unto you are spirit, and are life. But there are some 
of you that believe not.” 

The mournful tenderness of this personal address did 
not avail with most of them. They had been drawn to 
Jesus, not because they saw God manifest in Ilis INIessiah, 
but by the hope of xu’ofitand preferment in a iwlitical king- 
dom ; and from that day on they followed him no more. 
Seeing them go, Jesus turned to the twelve, beside w’hom 
there were few now in the all but deserted synagogue, and 
asked sadly, “ Would ye also go away ? ” 

“Lord,” broke out Peter, “to whom shall we go? 
Thou hast the words of eternal life. And we have believed 
and know that thou art the Holy One of God.” 

A smile brightened the Lord’s face, and then quickly 
departed. 

“ Did not I choose you the twelve,” he said in a voice 
low and full of pain, “ and one of you is a devil?” 

The painful w^ords rang in the minds of the apostles for 
the moment like the note of some distant alarm ; but Jesus 
gave no exxflanation, and none of them felt like asking for 
one. 

It was soon clear that Jesus had accomxflished his ob- 


306 


EMMANUEL ; 


ject ; the tide had been turned effectually. Whatever 
might be the case at other places, there would be no Mes- 
sianic outbreak at Capernaum in behalf of Jesus of Naza- 
reth. More than that ; the town was no longer a safe 
place for him. The people, for the time, he had no occa- 
sion to fear, the most outspoken of them having simply 
come to the conclusion — already reached by his own 
brethren — that he was beside himself. But they could 
no longer be relied upon to defend him against his foes, — 
foes whose angry malignity had risen steadily with the in- 
crease of his popularity. It could not be doubted that, 
when these found their adversary stripped of the favour of 
the people, they would discover means of visiting their 
wrath upon him. 

With the return of the Passover caravan, and the San- 
hedrist emissaries, the increased boldness of the latter 
quickly showed itself. It happened that, as Jesus and the 
twelve were about to sit down to their evening meal, — the 
principal one of the day, — the Rabbis, a crowd attending 
them, passed the house, the door of which, warm weather 
liaving come again to the shores of the lake, stood open. 
The scribes stopped by the entrance and looked on, as was 
not uncommon ; and soon, to their satisfaction, the greatly 
desired pretext for an accusation against Jesus presented 
itself. The twelve sat down to eat without first washing 
their hands according to the prescribed ceremonial. Here 
W'as an unquestionable innovation. 

Though the apostles, not having been Pharisees, had 
never attempted to keep the thousand and one minuter re- 
quirements of the Rabbis, yet the simpler purifications, 
such as washing the hands before meals, bathing upon re- 
turn from the market-place, immersion of pots, brazen 
vessels, and even beds, all alike regardless of actual cleanli- 
ness or the contrary, had formerly been performed by them, 
— as, indeed, by true Israelites generally. Since they had 


THE STOBY OF THE MESSIAH. 


307 


been with Jesus, however, they had come to look upon 
these things as belonging, not to the kingdom of heaven, 
but to that dead and formal Eabbinism which was opposed 
to it. On this occasion, deeming their hands already sufTi- 
ciently clean, actually, they came to the meal careless of 
what might be the case ceremonially. 

Forthwith a scribe newdy arrived from Jerusalem stepped 
forward and demanded, “Why do thy disciples transgress 
the tradition of the elders? For they wash not their hands 
when they eat bread.’’ 

Jesus gave the question no reply; it deserved none; it 
was doubtful if even a boy, old enough to wear the te- 
phillin, could be found in Capernaum who did not know 
his opinion of the traditions of the elders. 

“ AVhy do ye also,” he said with severity, “ transgress 
the commandment of God because of your tradition? For 
God said. Honour thy father and thy mother : and he that 
speaketh evil of father or mother, let him die the death. 
But ye say. Whosoever shall say to his father or his mother. 
That wherewith thou mightest have been profited by me is 
given to God ; he shall not honour his father. And ye have 
made void the word of God because of your tradition : 
and many such like things ye do. Ye hypocrites, well did 
Isaiah prophesy of you, saying. This people honoureth me 
W’ith their lips ; but their heart is far from me. But in 
vain do they worship me, teaching as their doctrines the 
precepts of men. 

“ Hear ye all of you, and understand,” to the common 
people ; “Not that which entereth into the mouth defileth the 
man ; but that which proceedeth out of the mouth, this de- 
fileth the man. If any man hath ears to hear, let him hear.” 

The Pharisees had heard enough ; haughtily and angrily 
they made their way through the crowd, and departed to 
deliberate by themselves how they might destroy this man, 
controversy with whom seemed equivalent to defeat. 


308 


EMMANUEL ; 


When the door was shut, Philip made the rather super- 
fluous inquiry, “ Knowest thou that the Pharisees were 
offended when they heard this saying ? ” 

“Every plant,” was the answer, “which my Father 
planted not, shall be rooted up. Let them alone : they 
be blind guides. And if the blind guide the blind, both 
shall fall into a pit.” 

“ Lord,” said Peter, “ declare unto us the parable.” 

“ Are ye also even yet without understanding ? ” rejoined 
Jesus, with a smile and a tone of mild reproof. 

He then pointed out that nothing unclean going into a 
man could defile him, since it was rejected by the system, 
and never became a part of it ; while the evil coming out 
of a man’s mouth was defiling to him, since it showed the 
blackness of the heart in which it originated. 

“ Out of the heart,” he said in conclusion, “ come forth 
evil thoughts, murders, adulteries, fornications, thefts, 
false witness, railings : these are the things which defile 
the man ; but to eat with unwashen hands defileth not the 
man.” 

Waiting not for the fruition of Sanhedrist plots, and 
postponing the final conflict with the hierarchy, Jesus soon 
led his disciples forth from Capernaum, — a place never 
again to be his home, and to be visited by him but once 
thereafter, — through the hill-country of Galilee toward 
the north-west, and beyond the limits of the land of Israel, 
to the neighbourhood of the heathen city of -Tyre. There 
he sought to take greatly needed rest, and, knowing that 
his fame had preceded him, gave directions that his stop- 
ping place should not be disclosed to strangers. It was 
difficult, however, for the great Healer to remain in con- 
cealment so near the scenes of his mightiest works. A 
Gentile woman, a Syro-Phcenician, heard of him, and 
coming to his lodging-place, followed him about as he 
walked with the disciples. 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


809 


“ Have mercy on me, O Lord, thou Son of David,” she 
cried repeatedly ; ‘‘my daughter is grievously vexed with 
a demon.” 

Jesus, however, gave her no notice. Thoma found him- 
self surprised and troubled over the Lord’s neglect of this 
woman ; yet he could not tell why. She was certainly a 
heathen, and had no claim whatever on the Redeemer of 
Israel. Presently the other disciples, not so troubled, and 
vexed with the woman’s importunity, besought their Master 
to send her aw^ay. 

“I am not sent but unto the lost sheep of the house of 
Israel,” said Jesus thereupon, turning to the woman. 

“ Lord, help me,” she said imploringly, running forward 
to his feet. 

“ Let the children first be filled,” said Jesus, with an 
expression very puzzling to the son of Salmon ; “ for it is 
not meet to take the children’s bread and cast it to the 
dogs.” 

“ Yea, Lord,” returned the woman without anger, and 
most pathetically ; “ even the dogs under the table eat of 
the children’s crumbs.” 

A light broke over the Master’s face. 

“ O woman, great is thy faith,” he said, with a look of 
reproof for the Hebrew narrowness and separatism of the 
twelve, so closely akin to Rabbinical self-righteousness ; 
“ for this saying go thy w^ay ; the demon is gone out of thy 
daughter.” 

In thinking over this cure afterward, it occurred to 
Thoma that on a former occasion also, the healing of the 
centurion’s slave at Capernaum, his Lord had taken pains 
to call attention to remarkable faith in a Gentile. 

The news of this cure spread rapidly through the coun- 
try round about ; the happy w^oman, of course, told her 
story times without number ; and in consequence Jesus 
found it necessary to remove to regions yet more remote. 


310 


EMMANUEL ; 


Going on northward across the Leontes, he found a secure 
retreat in the mountainous country back of Sidon. Among 
the forest-covered spurs of Lebanon, with an outlook over 
deep, picturesque valleys, the narrow maritime plain with 
its opulent cities, and the blue, sail-dotted expanse of 
the Great Sea, he spent several weeks with the twelve in 
comparative quiet. In time, however, the increasing 
stream of visitors and suppliants drove him from even 
this retired spot ; so that, just as the long, dry summer 
was coming on, the Master left the pleasant Phoenician 
heights, and went southward and eastward, through Kedesh 
and past the Waters of Merom, to the Tetrarchy of Philip, 
son of Herod the Great. Though again in heathen terri- 
tory, he was now too far south to pass unrecognized, and 
was obliged to go from place to place with little delay to 
avoid the ever ready throngs. Keeping on toward the 
south, through the pastures, already drying up, and the 
high, barren uplands, of Gaulanitis, on the east side of 
the Sea of Galilee, he reached finally the district known 
as the Decapolis, — ten confederated free cities holding 
sway within it. 

In this region, in close 'proximity to the south-eastern 
corner of the lake, certain memorable events occurred. A 
man deaf and half dumb was brought to him with the 
request that he would lay his hand upon him. Jesus took 
him apart, put his fingers into his ears, spat on the ground, 
and touched his tongue. Then, with an upward look, and 
a sigh at the thought of the uses to which that tongue 
would not improbably be put in the future, he said, “ Be 
opened.” When, at this command, hearing and perfect 
speech had returned to the man, Jesus charged him and 
his friends to tell no one of the cure. The charge was 
entirely unheeded. 

“He hath done all things well,” they said, as they 
spread the story on every side : “he maketh even the 
deaf to hear and the dumb to speak.” 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


311 


As a natural result the sick, the crippled, and the 
demon-possessed were brought to Jesus in great numbers ; 
and as all were restored to health, the popular excitement 
daily grew more intense. Men and women came from 
long distances bringing food with them, and did not 
depart at once, but shared with him the barren mountain 
side. This could not, of course, continue indefinitely. 

“ I have compassion on the multitude,’^ said Jesus to 
the twelve at length, “ because they continue with me now 
three days, and have nothing to eat : and if I send them 
away fasting to their home, they will faint in the way ; and 
some of them are come from far.” 

“ Whence shall one be able to fill these men with bread 
here in a desert place ? ” was the very natural reply. 

Not one of the disciples, probably, failed to think im- 
mediately of the feeding of the five thousand a few months 
before ; but they remembered also the Lord’s rebuke of 
the Pharisees for demanding a sign ; and, in their awe of 
him, none dared to suggest a repetition of that miracle. 

“ How many loaves have ye? ” he asked. 

“ Seven,” was the answer. 

The seven loaves and a few small fishes were handed to 
him, and when at his command the throng was seated, 
he blessed them, broke them, and distributed to the disci- 
ples, and they to the multitude. The twelve asked no 
further questions; they foresaw what was to take place, 
and they were not mistaken. All the four thousand people 
ate to repletion, and then seven baskets were filled with 
the fragments remaining. The miracle made a profound 
impression on the multitude, and might have led to pro- 
nounced external results, had Jesus so willed. But he 
neither sought pronounced external results, nor was his 
mission to this population, not one-half of whom were 
Jews. The Gospel of the kingdom was to be preached to 
them by other lips than his. The people^ now in no dan- 


312 


EMMANUEL ; 


ger of suffering, were summarily dismissed ; and then 
without delay the Master descended to the lake, and em- 
barked for the Galilaean shore. The disciples rowed with 
lusty strokes, for their hearts exulted over this new man- 
ifestation of their Lord’s power. IVhat a wealth was at 
his command ! Mhat, with such a leader, were the power- 
ful foes opposed to the kingdom of heaven? what the 
numerical odds against Israel? 

The dusk of evening was gathering over the lake and 
the surrounding hill-sides as they landed at Magdala, while 
in the streets of the town it was almost dark. It might 
have been expected that, thus shrouded by darkness, 
Jesus’ unobtrusive return to the land of Gennesaret 
would be unnoted ; but it was quite otherwise. The 
emissaries of the Sanhedrin had their agents in Magdala. 
On the morrow the followers of Jesus in the little city 
gathered quietly to welcome and to hear their Lord ; and 
with them came the usual curious crowd, greedy of the 
marvellous, and filling the house to overflowing. Conse- 
quently, when, after the lapse of an hour, certain new- 
comers sought to gain the presence of Jesus, ingress was 
impossible. Not till the discourse was concluded, and 
the people began to disperse, could the late arrivals make 
their way in. They proved the identical Sauhedrist 
agents that had dogged the steps of Jesus at Capernaum 
and elsewhere, reenforced now by a number of Sadducees 
of priestly families, who also had taken alarm at the 
growing renown of “ the Nazarene.” They were not igno- 
rant of the popular favour shown to him in Gaulanitis and 
Decapods, and it filled them with wrath that he should 
be thus signally successful in regions where, in their 
opinion, no one claiming to be a Rabbi ought to be willing 
to teach at all, and where the Gentile element was so 
strong that they were powerless. They had come to the 
conclusion that, till they could overtake their opponent by 


THE STORY OF THE 3IESSIAH. 


313 


violence, their best course was to force him to alienate the 
people by repeating publicly his refusal of the generally 
desired heavenly attestation of his claims. 

“We would have a sign from thee,” they said, there- 
fore, loudly ; “ what dost thou work?” 

Jesus sighed to think their plot was so well laid ; it 
was sadly true that the multitude had far more appetite 
for marvels than desire for truth and righteousness. 

“ When it is evening,” he returned quietly, but severely, 
“ ye say it will be fair weather, for the heaven is red. 
And in the morning it will be foul weather to-day : for the 
sky is red and lowering. Ye know how to discern the face 
of the heaven ; but ye cannot discern the signs of the 
times. An e\ul and adulterous generation seeketh after 
a sign ; and there shall no sign be given unto it, but the 
sign of Jonah.” 

The Sanhedrist emissaries had accomplished their im- 
mediate object, though at the cost of a sharper rebuke 
than they had counted upon ; and they went their way, 
confident that, if they could but lead Jesus to disappoint 
the people a few times more, they would be able to wreak 
their vengeance upon him in safety. It did not occur to 
them that their antagonist could read the popular mind 
even better than they, and knew how to avoid what he 
could not prevent. It was therefore with surprise and vex- 
ation that, in the ensuing weeks and months, they sought 
in vain for Jesus of Nazareth. Not till the summer had 
waxed and waned and the feast of Tabernacles had come, 
did they encounter him again ; for that very afternoon the 
Master embarked for Bethsaida Julias and the Tetrarchy 
of Philip. 

During the passage Master and disciples alike were si- 
lent : the former, wrapped in painful reflections, gazed 
over the water at the varied outline of the Galilaian shore ; 
the latter pulled steadily at the oars and thought of the 


314 


EMMANUEL ; 


events of the day. Thoma was disappointed. The expe- 
riences at Magdala seemed a disheartening comment on 
the high hopes with which they had crossed the lake the 
night before. Why did the Master refuse signs to the 
Pharisees and the people, and give them to the twelve un- 
asked? Would not such a marvel as the stilling of the 
.tempest or the walking on the water have convinced even 
the Rabbis of the Lord’s Messiahship? In after years, as 
a missionary of the cross, with an unbelieving world to be 
persuaded of the truth of the Gospel, and the severest pos- 
sible strain put upon his own faith, Thoma discovered why 
specially impressive and convincing signs had been vouch- 
safed to himself and his fellows. A remark of the Mas- 
ter, breaking the long silence as they drew near their 
destination, gave him a suggestion of the reason why 
such signs were denied to the Pharisees. 

“ Take heed and beware of the leaven of the Pharisees 
and Sadducees,” Jesus said earnestly, but rather absently. 

With a strange dulness, considering the time they had 
been with their Master, they supposed him to refer to the 
bread which they would have to buy in Bethsaida, there 
being but one loaf in the company. 

“ It is because we took no bread,” Jesus overhead them 
explaining among them*selves. 

“ O ye of little faith,” he said sadly, though not without 
a certain patient gentleness, ‘‘why reason ye among 
yourselves because ye have no bread? Do ye not per- 
ceive, neither remember the five loaves of the five thou- 
sand, and how many baskets ye took up? Neither the 
seven loaves of the four thousand, and how many baskets 
ye took up? IIow is it that ye do not perceive that I 
spake not to you concerning bread? But beware of the 
leaven of the Pharisees and Sadducees.” 

The twelve, as a whole, then saw that Jesus referred to 
the spirit and the teaching of the hierarchical leaders ; 


THE STORY OF THE 2IESSIAH. 


315 


while to Thoraa, in particular, it occurred that the Lord 
did not desire the adherence of the Pharisees till they had 
experienced a radical change of spirit. 

Arrived at Bethsaida, his presence ^quickly became 
known ; and, though it was almost dark, a blind man 
was brought to him for healing. Taking the suppliant by 
the hand, and leading him out of the village, he anointed 
his eyes with spittle, and asked him if he could see any- 
thing. 

“I see men,” was the answer; “for I behold them as 
trees walking.” 

A second touch of the Master’s hands gave him the 
power, not only to see, but to recognize what he saw. 
Happily Jesus’ parting injunction, “ Do not even enter 
into the village,” was heeded. The miracle did not be- 
come known until the next day, after Jesus was gone ; 
and, in the mean time, the Lord passed the night in quiet. 


316 


EmiANUEL ; 


CHAPTER XXI. 

THE HEAVENLY GLORY. ^ 


For we did not follow cunningly devised fables, when we made known unto you 
the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, hut we were eye-witnesses of his 
majesty. For he received from God the Father honour and glory, when there was 
borne such a voice to him by the Majestic Glory, This is my beloved Son, in whom 
1 am well pleased: and this voice we ourselves heard borne out of heaven, when 
we were with him in the holy mount, 2 Pet i 1&-18 

“X'T’ORTHWARD, away from the region of fierce heats, 
1 ^ beyond the high, rocky plateaus and brown pastures 
of Gaulanitis, — northward, toward the inviting 
snows and forests of Mount Hermon, the Master led his 
followers. At times the impetuous Jordan, there a wild 
mountain stream, alternately winding under luxuriant thick- 
ets of oleander and throwing itself down numberless rapids 
and cascades, was their companion. Again the way led 
over the parched uplands, and the picturesque and beautiful 
gorge by which the river makes the steep descent from the 
Waters of Merom to the Sea of Galilee was out of sight. 
The reed-fringed, meadow-environed shore of the former 
lake next received them ; and then the groves, rich fields, 
and gardens, on the banks of the streams supplying it from 
the north. In this upper basin their eyes were gladdened 
for the first time with the sight of that unusual, but most 
refreshing, prospect in Palestine, — broad, bright areas of 
veritable greensward, the turf still fresh in spite of on-com- 
ing summer. Passing the poor village marking the site of 
ancient Dan, where one branch of the Jordan springs from 
the bosom of the earth in a mighty fountain, the Lord and 
the twelve came at length to the foot-hills of great Hermon, 
and the cool oak groves and stately temples and palaces of 
Cmsarea Philippi. 


1 Matt. xvi. lo-xvii. 21. 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH, 


317 


Somewhat to the surprise of the disciples, Jesus stopped 
for several days in this idol-polluted city. Before their 
sojourn in the region had been greatly prolonged, they dis- 
covered that it was impossible to avoid the symbols of 
heathenism in the haunts of men ; and not always easy to 
do so in Nature’s solitudes, since even on mountain top and 
in forest recess Grecian temples, centres of (esthetic cul- 
ture and moral corruption, often met and offended the 
sight of the strangers from Galilee. He would have been 
held a madman indeed who should have ventured to predict 
to the Greek population in prosperous C{esarea Philippi that 
what they considered the despicable superstition of the Jews 
would outlast the religion of Greece by half a score of cen- 
turies, while the nascent faith in that group of refugees 
from the south would develop into world-wide proportions, 
and drive their own elegant, but hopelessly depraved, sys- 
tem from the face of the earth. 

Before it became generally known that the renowned 
Galil(ean prophet was in the city, the Lord and his party 
passed on to the welcome shelter of the noble forests and 
quiet mountain valleys of the neighbourhood. They did not 
leave, however, till they had visited the great fountain on 
the city's farther verge, where another branch of the Jordan 
bursts forth from a picturesque and musically murmurous 
grotto in one of the foot-hills of Mount Hermon, — pure, 
strong, and copious, like the great stream of human life 
from the divine fountain, and like it so soon, alas ! defiled 
by earthy contact. They could not drink at this most ro- 
mantic of the sources of their sacred river ; for the site was 
then, as for ages previously, defiled by a heathen temple 
dedicated to Grecian Pan. 

Then came golden days for Thoma and his comrades, — 
da3^s in which their Master seemed to live for them only, in 
which but rarely was there a harassing crowd about them, 
rarely the distressing sight of multitudes of sick and 


318 


EMMANUEL ; 


maimed, but, instead, the enjoyment of the grateful soli- 
tude and coolness of some rocky glen or forest recess, the 
melodious murmur of a bright, snosv-fed mountain stream 
or wave-lapped lake beach, or the fair prospect from some 
spur of Hermon. Many were the times that the twelve 
feasted their eyes by looking out southward over the ver- ^ 
daut expanse around the shining Lake Merom, where the 
vivid and varied shades of green were threaded and dotted 
with silver streams and pools ; and where reedy marshes 
and thickets of oleander, meadows and gardens, orchards 
and groves of forest trees, abounded ; while great moun- 
tain walls eastward and westward shut in the whole. Often 
in after years did Thoma’s thoughts go back to that happy 
summer ; often, as he meditated on some lofty truth, did 
the power of association carry him to that beautiful, forest- 
clad mountain land, w^here coolness and verdure remained, 
while Judaea and even Galilee lay brown and dry under the 
fiery gaze of a relentless sun ; wdiere fresh breezes and de- 
lightful prospects charmed the sense, while in the south 
men hid themselves in caves and cellars from the suffocat- 
ing breath of the sirocco, sweeping up from its desert 
home. 

The charm of those summer days was enhanced by the 
ever-present impression that they were to be followed by 
stirring scenes and glorious achievements in the fall. 
None of the twelve could have given reasons for his confi- 
dence in this respect ; but all felt sure, nevertheless, that a 
crisis in their Master’s affairs was approaching, — not past, 
— and that the crisis would be a glorious consummation. 
Not one of them, notwithstanding many disappointments, 
doubted that their Lord meant to reestablish the throne of 
David, and in himself found a new and greater dynasty. 
They were, indeed, with one exception, men of spiritual 
desires, and responsive to the claims of righteousness. 
They fell in readily with Jesus’ demand for repentance and 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH, 


319 


a new life as necessary qualifications for entering the king- 
dom of heaven ; they felt that it was the absence of 
righteousness, in leaders or people, which had occasioned 
all the disasters in the history of Israel, the fatal lack 
wliich had always brought down upon them the displeasure 
of the Most High, from the days of the wandering in the 
wilderness to the time of the second Hyrcanus and the 
Idumaean tyrant, Herod. They saw clearly that the national 
hope needed purifying ; that the people must be taught to 
base their new kingdom on godliness, taking only upright 
and God-fearing men for leaders, and yielding to God 
service from the heart ; otherwise, they maintained, there 
could be no such glorious reestablishment of Israelitish 
dominion as that dreamed of by the nation ; for transgres- 
sion would bring failure and decay in the future just as 
surely as it had done in the past. But to none of them did 
it occur that the national hope was radically wrong ; that 
there was to be no revival of Israel’s temporal power, no 
outward visible kingdom of heaven in the present era. 

At length the summer drew to a close. The early vintage 
season came again, and the beginning of the early rains 
could not be far distant. The land was parched from the 
borders of Phoenicia to the desert, from Jordan to the Great 
Sea, and every non-perennial fountain and stream was a 
dry and bleached heap of gravel. Even the towering crest 
of Hermon owned the all-pervading power of the heat and 
drought, and bared its rocky head for a brief season to the 
airs of heaven. Only here and there, in deep ravines, where 
great cliffs shielded it from the sunshine, could the snow 
still be seen. And with the advance of the season, the 
disciples noticed that the face of their Lord grew more 
grave, and at times wore an expression of pain. It hap- 
pened one evening, after they had been engaged in prayer, 
that they all sat by the side of the small stream just west 
of Hermon, — now known as the Hasbany, and the most 


320 


EMMANUEL ; 


distant source of the Jordan, — and not far from the pool 
into which its waters flow as they issue from the heart of 
the mountain. The spot was not so retired as generally 
were the places chosen for seasons of prayer, for they could 
hear voices not far away; but in the prevalent dryness 
the sight and sound of living water had proved more attrac- 
tive than solitude. Jesus sat with his eyes fixed on the 
gliding, sparkling waters, but with a grave, abstracted ex- 
pression. Whatever his thoughts, they were interrupted ; 
for his ear caught a few words of the subdued conversation 
carried on by his companions. 

“Who do men say that the Son of man is?” he said 
abruptly. 

“ Some say John the Baptist,” was the answer, “ some 
Elijah, and others Jeremiah, or one of the prophets.” 

“ But who say ye that I am? ” 

“ Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God,” Peter 
responded promptly. 

Jesus smiled ; but his delight was for the speaker, not 
for himself, to whom the testimony applied. 

“ Blessed art thou, Simon Bar-Jonah ; for flesh and blood 
hath not revealed it unto thee, but my Father who is in 
heaven. And I also say unto thee, that thou art Peter, 
and upon this rock I will build my church ; and the gates 
of Hades shall not prevail against it. I will give unto thee 
the keys of the kingdom of heaven ; and whatsoever thou 
shalt bind on earth shall be bound in heaven ; and whatso- 
ever thou shalt loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.” 

Jesus dropped his eyes once more and watched the 
gliding waters ; when again he spoke it was without look- 
ing up, and only to charge his followers not to spread the 
knowledge of his Messiahship at present. Then there was 
a long silence, broken only by the gentle murmur of the 
stream, during which the sunlight departed from the 
heights above and the shadows deepened in the valley. 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


321 


Again it was Jesus who spoke first ; he raised his head, 
and in sad, earnest tones began to explain to the apostles 
that very soon he must go up to Jerusalem, and there 
suffer many things, including death itself, at the hands 
of his enemies, the Rabbis and chief priests ; on the third 
day, however, he declared he would rise from the dead. 
It was not to be expected that this outline of the future, 
so different from that in the minds of his followers, 
would be welcomed. They thought it simply the product 
of a natural depression in view of the number and formi- 
dable character of his foes ; and Peter, elated by the beati- 
tude just pronounced upon him, took upon himself, with 
well-meant presumption, to banish what he considered his 
Lord’s gloomy fancies. 

“ Be it far from thee, Lord,” he said ; “ this shall never 
be unto thee.” 

It did not occur to Peter, in the kindness and blindness 
of his heart, that he was more than presuming, that he was 
reenforcing the severest temptation of his Lord’s career, 
— the temptation to turn aside from the path marked 
out by God, and to seek his ends by less painful means. 
He was, therefore, in common with his fellows, much 
startled at Jesus’ rejoinder. 

“ Get thee behind me, Satan [Adversary],” exclaimed 
the latter ; “ thou art a stumbling-block unto me ; for 
thou mindest not the things of God, but the things of 
men.” 

Nothing more was said on the subject at the time ; but 
the next day, when many other listeners were gathered 
about him, Jesus took occasion to speak further of the 
tribulation to be expected by members of the kingdom of 
heaven. He said : — 

“ If any man would come after me, let him deny him- 
self, and take up his cross and follow me. For whosoever 
would save his life shall lose it : and whosoever shall lose 


EMMANUEL ; 


099 


his life for my sake shall find it. For what shall a man 
he profited if he shall gain the whole world, and forfeit 
his life? or what shall a man give in exchange for his life? 
For whosoever shall be ashamed of me and my words in 
this adulterous and sinful generation, of him also shall the 
Son of man be ashamed, when he cometh in the glory of 
his Father with the holy angels : then shall he render 
unto every man according to his deeds.” 

About a week longer was passed among the mountains, 
and then the Master turned his face southward in his long 
journey to Jerusalem and the feast of Tabernacles. Before 
starting out he spent a night on Mount Ilermon, and there 
passed through an experience of which Thoma and most 
of his fellow-disciples heard only after the Passover of 
the following spring. Taking Simon Peter and the sons 
of Zebedee with him, Jesus climbed the peak to the very 
summit, keeping still on up after the forest limit had been 
reached, and only a mighty pinnacle of limestone, scantily 
covered about its base with low vegetation, remained tow- 
ering above them. 

Arrived at the summit, they found themselves con- 
fronted at its southern extremity with a heathen temple, 
which they avoided with their customary care, and then 
seated themselves where the eye could range at will over 
the wonderful panorama round about. Northward the 
rival mountain walls of Lebanon and Anti-Lebanon 
stretched far away toward unseen Antioch, the flourish- 
ing city of Heliopolis lying in the plain intermediate ; 
while eastward another splendid city met the eye, seem- 
ingly at the very foot of the mountain, the city of Damas- 
cus, resplendent in palaces, baths, and colonnades, and 
embosomed in a well-watered plain, whose vegetation was 
of tropical luxuriance. Beyond Damascus the desert con- 
tinued unbroken till the boundary between it and the sky 
was lost in the haze of the far distance. Southward lay the 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH, 


323 


garclen-like basin of Lake Merom, where the Jordan gath- 
ers its strength and prepares for its downward race ; and 
beyond this, in clear view, was mountain-girt Gennesaret, 
the fruitful hills of Galilee on one side of it, and the lofty 
plateaus and precipices of Gaulanitis on the other; while 
still farther on, the mountains of Gilead and Moab, Gilboa 
and Carmel, terminated the view. Finally, but by no 
means least notably, beyond the intervening hills and 
mountains westward, there was the long and boundless 
blue expanse of the Great or Uttermost Sea. 

It was a varied and noble panorama ; and the hearts of 
the fishermen swelled within them as they recalled that 
every foot of land in sight had been promised to Israel, 
most of it during a brief period having actually been held 
by two of their country’s monarchs. Naturally their gaze 
turned oftenest toward the south, toward that Jerusalem, 
far beyond those Samaritan ridges, to which they were 
soon to go. Was it not about to become more glorious 
than ever, the capital of a greater kingdom than that of 
David or Solomon, the royal dwelling-place of the long- 
promised, long-expected, long-hoped-for Messiah? How 
soon in that distant capital might they be the witnesses of, 
and partakers in, stirring and glorious scenes, which would 
restore the kingdom to Israel and the sceptre to Judah, 
and make their Master’s name feared and honoured to the 
very ends of the earth ! 

It need hardly be said that Jesus surveyed the beautiful 
scene with very different thoughts. The afternoon hours 
went by very quietly ; but when the lengthening shadows 
in the vallej^s gave warning of the approach of night, 
Jesus arose and led the three down the steep cone of rock 
to a bold spur of the mountain, — partly shaded with old 
and gnarled oaks, partly covered with great blocks of 
limestone, — from which much of the panorama of the 
summit, especially southward, was visible. 


324 


EMMANUEL ; 


There, reclining on the boulders, they ate their frugal 
evening meal, while the flood of light streaming over the 
mountain tops and higher hills became increasingly golden, 
and the shadows crept across the plains, and shrouded the 
narrower valleys in deepening gloom. When the meal was 
over and the sunlight gone, except from the very crest of 
Hermon, Jesus withdrew a little from the others to engage 
in pra3’er. For a few minutes longer the three watched 
the prospect darken, and then the chill of the evening 
wind on the mountain began to affect them. The land- 
scape, too, seemed to sympathize with this change of tem- 
perature, and to become cold as well as dark ; while the 
vast rocky cone behind and above, bereft at length of the 
last ray of sunlight, loomed up in a lonely grandeur which 
was austere and awful. Not unnaturally, therefore, the 
warm recesses among the rocks presented themselves as 
attractive retreats ; so that, wrapping themselves in their 
cloaks, they soon lay down to rest in the shelter of the 
boulders. While they watched the stars come out over- 
head, or looked toward their Lord, who at times stood 
with face uplifted heavenward, at times sat gazing intently 
southward into the darkness, unintended slumber closed 
their eyes. 

They never knew how long they slept ; but some time in 
the course of the night James was awakened by the sound 
of voices, and a bright light "shining into his face. He 
had a confused, startled impression of strange, luminous 
objects near by, and in no little trepidation hastily 
wakened Peter and his brother. As soon as their eyes 
became accustomed to the light, they perceived that it 
came entirely from three bright forms, a short distance 
away, one of which was that of their Master. His face, 
like the countenances of those talking with him, shone like 
the sun, while his clothing was of a lustrous whiteness to 
be compared only with the sheen of new-fallen snow in the 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


325 


snnliglit. While they looked on at this wonderful scene, 
uncertain whether they were asleep or awake, the conver- 
sation between the three shining ones continued ; and, 
though they were too full of amazement to catch the de- 
tails of it, they were able to recall afterward that the 
heavenly visitors were Moses and Elijah^ and that they 
talked of the Lord’s approaching death at Jerusalem. 

The interview came to an end shortly, and the celestial 
guests began to ascend from the earth. This was much to 
Peter’s regret. He felt in a blind way that this scene 
must be prolonged if possible. 

“ Lord,” he cried out, “ it is good for us to be here : if 
thou wilt, I will make here three booths ; one for thee, and 
one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” 

Jesus smiled, and turned his shining eyes on his disci- 
ples. At the same moment they became aware of a new 
Avonder. A cloud was floating toward them only a little 
above them, its lower fringes actually threatening to en- 
compass them, — a cloud suffused with light and golden 
splendour, as though it were not hanging over a dark gulf 
at midnight on the side of Hermon, but drifting in the far 
western sky, bathed in the brightest rays of sunset. An 
instant later it was over and about them ; and then, to 
their utter dismay, there came from its depths a voice deep 
and majestic, — a voice which echoed Avith fearful grandeur 
among the mountain heights. 

“ This is my beloved Son,” it said, “ in whom I am well 
pleased ; hear ye him.” 

The awe-stricken disciples fell to the earth, and with 
coA'ered faces remained prostrate until Jesus laid his hand 
upon them, and encouraged them with brief command in 
his customary gentle tones, “Arise, and be not afraid.” 
They looked up to find themselves alone Avith the Master, 
no longer transfigured, while on the mountain side were 
only darkness and stillness, and overhead only the familiar 
starlit sky. 


326 


FMMANUEL ; 


Peter aftemard appreciated fully the folly of the pro- 
posal made by him at the heavenly interview ; never, how- 
ever, did he regret having made it ; for his words, followed 
by the smile and look of his Lord, convinced him and his 
fellows that they were not in a vision, but were beholding 
an actual occurrence, — were, in fact, eye-witnesses of the 
Master’s own proper majesty. 

On the way down the mountain in the morning, the minds 
of the three disciples were naturally full of the glorious 
scene of the night ; but they were still too much in awe to 
question their Lord about it. Jesus himself was the first 
to speak of it, charging them to tell no one what they had 
seen till he had risen from the dead. This, though they 
thought of it many times then and afterward, was beyond 
their comprehension ; but so were many of the Lord’s say- 
ings ; so especially was the talk of the heavenly visitors 
about his approaching death. Yet they did not doubt that 
they understood correctly the significance of the shining 
scene itself ; they did not doubt that this was the begin- 
ning of the more glorious part of their Master’s career, in 
which men would not only be won by the beauty of Jesus’ 
character and the truth of his teachings, but astonished and 
compelled to do homage by the splendour attending him. 
But they had been taught, and as it seemed on the author- 
ity of clear and unquestioned prophecy (Mai. iv. 5), that 
the great Tishbite prophet would return before this part of 
the Messiah’s career. 

“ How is it,” they inquired accordingly, “ that the 
scribes say that Elijah must first come ? ” 

“ Elijah indeed cometh first,” was the answer, “ and re- 
storeth all things ; but I say unto you that Elijah is come 
already, and they knew him not, but did unto him whatso- 
ever they listed. Even so shall the Son of man also suffer 
of them.” 

The three were silent ; they understood his reply so far 


THE STORY OF THE ^lESSIAH. 


327 


as it concerned Elijah, who had come, they now saw, in 
the person of John the Baptist ; but here again was the 
inexplicable and unwelcome prediction of suffering by 
the Master himself. 

In the valley, meanwhile, Thoma and his comrades were 
surrounded by a crowd, which included certain Eabbis 
from Jewish communities in that region, and prominent in 
which was a man who sought Jesus to secure the cure of 
his only son, a demoniac. Jesus being absent, the stranger 
begged some one of the disciples to relieve the boy ; Philip, 
with ready confidence, volunteered. But Philip omitted 
that upward look and that absolute reliance upon the power 
of Jesus which had accompanied the cures wrought by him- 
self and his friends in the winter, and to his dismay his 
command to the evil spirit proved vain. The mortification 
of the disciples was great, and the disappointment of the 
parent bitter ; only the few Rabbis found the result grate- 
ful. These, knowing the antagonism between Jesus and 
their class, pressed up to the abashed apostles, and charged 
them with teaching false doctrine, in that their vaunted 
power of casting out demons had no real existence. 

In the midst of the hot dispute ensuing, to his great joy 
Thoma, more grieved by Philip’s failure, than angered by 
the taunts of the scribes, saw the Master approaching from 
the direction of the mountain. He was startled, however, 
as well as gladdened, and so were the multitude, as all 
looked toward the new-comers. After a moment’s aston- 
ished regard, the people ran to Jesus, and saluted him with 
respectful words and reverential genuflections. Unnoticed 
by the three who had seen the splendour of the mountain, 
there still remained a slight glow on the face of Jesus, 
heightening at once its attractiveness and its majesty. 

“ What question ye with them? ” said Jesus to the dis- 
ciples, paying little immediate attention to the popular 
greetings. 


328 


EMMANUEL ; 


Master,” broke in the father of the unfortunate 
lad, “.I brought unto thee my son, who hath a dumb spirit ; 
and wheresoever it taketh him it dasheth him down ; and 
he foameth and grindeth his teeth, and pineth away ; and I 
spake to thy disciples that they should cast it out ; and 
they were not able.” 

A cloud passed over Jesus’ face ; were his chosen fol- 
lowers then little better than the ordinary unbelieving pop- 
ulace ? 

“ O faitliless and perverse generation,” he broke out 
sorrowfully, “ how long shall I be wdth you? How long 
shall I bear with you? Bring him unto me.” 

The demonized boy on catching sight of Jesus was 
seized with a new convulsion, and falling to the ground 
lay wallowing and foaming at the mouth. 

“ How long a time is it since this hath come unto him? ” 
the Lord asked. 

“ From a child. And ofttimes it hath cast him both 
into the fire and into the waters to destroy him ; but if 
thou canst do anything have compassion on us and help us.” 

“ If thou canst ! ” was the firm but kindly reply. “ All 
things are possible to him that believeth.” 

With starting tears and scepticism almost dispelled by 
the serene confidence of Jesus, the father cried passion- 
ately, “I believe; help thou mine unbelief.” 

There was no delay in the response. 

“ Thou dumb aud deaf spirit,” the Lord said quickly, 
“I command thee come out of him, and enter no more 
into him.” 

There was a last fearful convulsion, wrenching a sharp 
cry from the boy’s lips and leaving him unconscious ; but 
the command was obeyed. 

“ He is dead,” said the people crowding around. But 
Jesus, taking him by the hand, raised him to his feet, alive 
and sound in body and mind. 


THE STOEY OF THE MESSIAH. 


329 


Then, to escape from the multitude, the Master ac- 
cepted the proffered hospitality of the grateful pareut, and 
departed with him. 

“ Why could not we cast it out?” the disciples asked, 
when the shelter of the house was gained. 

“Because of your little faith: for verily I say unto 
you, If ye have faith as a grain of mustard seed, ye shall 
say unto this mountain. Remove hence to yonder place, 
and it shall remove ; and nothing shall be impossible unto 
you. But this kind goeth not out save by prayer.” 


330 


EMMANUEL ; 




CHAPTER XXII. 

FAREWELL TO GALILEE.^ 

Woe unto thee, Chorazin ! woe unto thee, Bethsaida ! — Luke x. 13. 

T he Master was on the downward path : he had 
chosen the way marked out by the Father, — the way 
through deepening shadows to death itself ; and he 
trod it with unfaltering step. On the very day of the 
return from the mountain and the cure of the demonized 
boy, he turned his back on Hermon and the great range 
of Lebanon, and following the diminished but still bright 
waters of the upper Jordan, descended its picturesque 
gorge, and led the twelve away on their long southward 
journey. Before arriving at the Lake of Oennesaret, the 
three who had been with Jesus at his transfiguration, look- 
ing backward perceived that the ascent of the mountain 
had been made none too soon. The crest of Hermon was 
white with the first snow of autumn. 

On crossing the Jordan below Lake Merom, and drawing 
near the scenes of his greatest works, Jesus took occasion 
to enjoin the twelve not to spread the news of his return. 

“Let these words sink into your ears,” he added with 
emphasis : “ the Son of man shall be delivered up into the 
hands of men ; and they shall kill him, and the third day 
he shall be raised up.” 

These words were terribly explicit, and for a time they 
weighed down the spirits of the disciples greatly ; then 
their preconceived notions of the kingdom of heaven, and 
their natural hopefulness, reasserted themselves, and the 
twelve either dismissed the unwelcome words as the prod- 

1 Matt. xvii. 22-27; xviii. 15-35; Mark ix. 33-50; Luke ix. 51-x. 16; xvii, 11-19; 
John vii. 2-10. 


THE STOnY OF THE MESSIAH. 


331 


net of a despondent mood, or interpreted them in accord- 
ance with their own wishes. Thoma, most disposed of any 
of the number to look upon the dark side, finally succeeded 
in reasoning away their oppressive force by recalling 
Jesus’ earnest charge not to be misled by superficial liter- 
alism. “ The words that I have spoken unto you are 
spirit and are life,” the Lord had said. Surely then this 
prediction of coming death was not to be taken literall}^ ; 
doubtless it was a warning that they must expect to fight 
against great odds, and to submit to great hardships ; and 
the Lord need not fear that his chosen ones would fail him 
in the coming struggle ; they did not expect to enter with 
him into his kingdom without hard fighting and many a 
privation. 

Soon, by a not unnatural reaction, hope burned more 
brightly than ever in the apostolic company ; and before 
they had skirted the northern end of the lake, falling be- 
hind their Master, they were busily engaged in parcelling 
out among themselves the honours of the anticipated new 
monarchy, 

Jesus reentered Capernaum just before dark, and ob- 
served by but few ; the few, however, were quite suffi- 
cient to carry the news of his arrival throughout the city. 
In the morning, on his visit to the market-place, Peter had 
evidence that the presence of the Master at his house was 
known ; and when he returned, after his purchases, he was 
occupied with thoughts clearly not of the most satisfactory 
character. 

“ What thinkest thou, Simon?” was Jesus’ half -playful 
salutation as he entered, “the kings of the earth, from 
whom do they receive toll or tribute? from their sons, or 
from strangers ? ” 

“ From strangers.” 

“ Therefore, the sons are free. But, lest w'e cause them 
to stumble, go thou to the sea, and cast a hook, and take 


332 


EMMANUEL ; 


up the fish that first cometh up ; and when thou hast opened 
his mouth, thou shaft find a shekel : that take, and give 
unto them for mo and thee.” 

Peter departed, and executed the commission. On return- 
ing, his comrades crowded about him, eager to hear the 
story that plainly he had to tell. He explained that at the 
market-place a collector of the Temple tax had met him. 
“Doth not your Master pay the half-shekel?” the latter 
had asked ; to which Peter had hastily replied in the affirm- 
ative. On his way back he had questioned whether the 
Master would approve of his answer. Rabbis were not re- 
quired to pay the tax, though they might do so voluntarily. 
The view of the matter taken by Jesus they had heard. 
On going to the lake, Peter had found the Lord’s prophecy 
verified ; in the mouth of the first fish caught was a shekel, 
the precise amount required for Jesus and himself. 

The disciples looked at each other in astonishment. The 
principle that children of God, citizens of the kingdom of 
heaven, were exempt from taxation for religious purposes, 
that contributions for such ends should be strictly volun- 
tary, was not one within their comprehension at the time ; 
but the miraculous provision of the shekel appealed power- 
fully to their imagination. Was there then nothing hid 
from the knowledge of the Lord? Were all hid treasures, 
the secret wealth of sea and land, open to his vision and 
subject to his command? 

While they talked visitors — at first disciples, then others 
— came in, in increasing numbers, till the room was crowded. 
Jesus seated himself, and began to teach. 

“ What were ye reasoning in the way?” he said to the 
twelve. 

No one answered ; evidently the Master knew of their 
disputes as to preeminence. Jesus called one of Peter's 
little ones to him, and putting his arm about him, con- 
tinued : — 


THE STORY OF THE .MESSIAIL 


333 


“ Verily I say unto you, Except ye turn, and become as 
little children, ye shall in no wise enter into the kingdom 
of heaven. If any man would be first, he shall be last of 
all, and minister of all. Whosoever, therefore, shall humble 
himself as this little child, the same is the greatest in the 
kingdom of heaven. And whoso shall receive one such 
little child in my name, receiveth me : and whosoever re- 
ceiveth me, receiveth not me, but Him that sent me.” 

It occurred to John that perhaps he and his fellows had 
transgressed, in one instance at least, the spirit of these 
last words. 

“ Master,” he said, “ we saw one casting out demons in 
thy name : and we forbade him, because he followed not 
us.” 

“ Forbid him not,” said Jesus, “ for there is no man who 
shall do a mighty work in my name, and be able quickly to 
speak evil of me. For he that is not against us is for us. 
For whosoever shall give you a cup of water to drink, be- 
cause ye are Christ’s, verily I say unto you, he shall in no 
wise lose his reward. And whosoever shall cause one of 
these little ones that believe on me to stumble, it were 
better for him if a great millstone were hanged about his 
neck, and he were cast into the sea. And if thy hand 
cause thee to stumble, cut it off : it is good for thee to enter 
into life maimed, rather than having thy two hands to go 
into Gehenna, into the unquenchable fire.” 

The argument was repeated with the foot and the eye 
for illustrations, in the latter case a further fearful descrip- 
tion of Gehenna being given in the words, “ where their 
worm dieth not, and their fire is not quenched.” 

“ See,” he went on, “ that ye despise not one of these 
little ones ; for I say unto you that in heaven their angels 
do always behold the face of my Father who is in 
heaven.” , 

Directions as to the treatment of an offending brother 


334 


EMMANUEL ; 


followed, in which the disciples were bidden to show such 
a one, privately, the injury done by him. In case he 
made no acknowledgment nor reparation, two or three wit- 
nesses were to be brought to a second interview. This 
measure also failing, he was to be reported to the church ; 
and, upon his refusal to hear the church, to be ignored as 
much as possible, like the Gentile and the publican. 

Next came the bestowal upon the twelve of powers of a 
very grave nature, but similar to those promised to Peter 
over a week before. 

“ Verily I say unto you,” ran the Master’s words, 
“ What things soever ye shall bind on earth shall be bound 
in heaven ; and what things soever ye shall loose on earth 
shall be loosed in heaven. Again I say unto you, that if 
two of you shall agree on earth as touching anything that 
they shall ask, it shall be done for them of my Father who 
is in heaven. For where two or three are gathered together 
in my name, there am I in the midst of them.” 

These great promises were beyond the then understand- 
ing of the twelve, and Peter’s thought soon reverted to the 
treatment of an offending brother. 

“ Lord,” he asked, “ how oft shall my brother sin 
against me and I forgive him? until seven times?” 

“I say not unto thee, Until seven times; but. Until 
seventy times seven.” 

The same day the Lord sent the sons of Zebedee to the 
Samaritan border to see if the people of that district would 
give him hospitality, should he go through their territory 
on a private journey to Jerusalem. The two were to rejoin 
him and report, the fourth day thereafter, at a certain 
point in the valley below Bethshean, whence there would be 
open to him a route east of the Jordan, should that through 
Samaria be denied him. 

On the morrow, in the course of the afternoon, the great 
annual caravan of pilgrims to the feast of Tabernacles 


THE STORY OF THE 3IESSIAIL 


S35 


drew out of the town, passed down the lake shore a few 
miles, and encamped for the night. Jesus was not a mem- 
ber of it ; for, though he intended to go up to the feast, it 
was no part of his purpose to go thither with a great multi- 
tude. Among the many who were in the caravan, however, 
were the brethren of the Lord. These, finding that their 
renowned brother was not in the train, and knowing that 
the latter, in accordance with Oriental custom, would not 
go far that evening, left it, and returned to Capernaum for 
a final interview with Jesus ; though, since the failure of 
their efforts at dissuasion a year before, they had almost 
lost hope of reclaiming him. They felt that while the 
people crowded to hear him and do him honour, they were 
powerless alike in the way of persuasion and in that of 
compulsion. They believed in him not at all. Yet they 
were not disposed to deny his high gifts, nor to look upon 
him with the small jealousy characterizing their fellow- 
townsmen ; indeed, had he been in distress, their former 
love for him would doubtless have returned immediately. 
Neither were they men of purely worldly feeling ; on the 
contrary, their opposition to their brother grounded itself 
in their religious nature. They were Hebrews of ultra- 
conservative temper, who by nature and training were 
almost incapacitated for believing in that which was new, 
especially in religion. Sturdy, upright men they were ; in 
defence of creed and country they would have laid down 
their lives ; but spiritual insight and receptiveness had 
remained, to a large degree, undeveloped within them. 

They came now to Jesus, not to dissuade him from his 
chosen course, — with one so infatuated they felt that fur- 
ther effort in that direction would be idle, — but to urge 
him to put his high claims to the supreme test of public 
examination at the feast, where representatives of all 
Israel, from the home land and from abroad, would be 
present. 


336 


EMMANUEL ; 


The interview was not a pleasant one. Jesus inquired 
affectionately about his mother ; and his brethren replied 
with much constraint, telling of her well-being. Then 
their errand disclosed itself in words. They reminded him 
that a year and a half had elapsed since he had been seen 
at the Holy City ; and urged upon him that, according to 
the teachings of the Eabbis, Jerusalem was the place 
where the kingdom was to be reestablished, and that to 
become a local insurrectionist like Judah the Gaulanite, 
or to attempt secretly to organize a new sect in Galilee in 
opposition to the true leaders of Israel, was simply to 
invite failure, and to bring certain disaster on himself and 
not improbably on his father’s house. 

“Depart hence,” said James in conclusion, “and go 
into Judica, that thy disciples also may behold thy works 
which thou doest. For no man doeth anything in secret, 
and himself seeketh to be known openly. If thou doest 
these things, manifest thyself to the world.” 

“ My time is not yet come,” returned Jesus quietly and 
sadly; “ but your time is alway ready. The world cannot 
hate you ; but me it hateth, because I testify of it, that 
its works are evil. Go ye up unto the feast ; I go not up 
yet unto this feast ; because my time is not yet fulfilled.” 

There was something in the manner, at once dignified, 
firm, and gentle, with which these words were spoken that 
impressed his visitors in spite of themselves ; they felt 
that the reply was final, and silently took their departure. 

Another twenty-four hours elapsed, and then Jesus 
himself started southward. On leaving the city, to which 
he was never to return, several of his more undecided 
disciples, partly from a new perception of his lofty person- 
ality, partly from an impression, then prevalent among 
the Lord’s followers, that great events were soon to occur, 
felt strongly drawn to accompany him to the Holy City. 
One of these was a certain Rabbi of the Sadducaean party. 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH 


33T 


Such scribes were few, the Sadducees finding their leaders 
more among the priesthood than among the teachers of 
Israel ; but those few, in part from their moderate regard 
for traditionalism, in part from pure opposition to the 
Pharisees, were generally in favour of weighing candidly 
the claims of Jesus. The scribe in question, with a dis- 
cernment rare in his class, became convinced that this 
Nazarene prophet had a great career before him. 

“ Master,” he said, as Jesus was leaving, “ I will follow 
thee whithersoever thou goest.” 

There was little likelihood, however, that a Pabbi of the 
Sadducees, with whom worldliness was as dominant as 
traditionalism with the Pharisees, would find the compan- 
ionship of Jesus of Nazareth permanently congenial. The 
Master’s reply intimated as much. 

“The foxes have holes, and the birds of the heaven 
have nests ; but the Sou of man hath not where to lay his 
head.” 

The scribe did not follow. 

Another, whom Jesus knew to be wavering, and with 
whom that day would be a turning-point, received the 
bidding, “Follow me.” 

“ Lord,” was the reply, “ suffer me first to go and bury 
my father.” 

“Leave the dead to bury their own dead ; but go thou 
and publish abroad the kingdom of God.” 

The man’s spiritual state was too unsettled to endure 
with happy result the delay and distraction of a Jewish 
season of mourning. 

“ I will follow thee. Lord,” volunteered a third ; “ but 
first suffer me to bid farewell to them that are at my 
house.” 

But the time for such leave-takings had gone by. 

“ No man,” said Jesus, “ having put his hand to the 
plough and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God. 


338 


EMMANUEL ; 


No one watching the progress of Jesus down the lake 
shore would have supposed that he was treading the 
deeply shadowed path of sacrifice. From the various 
towns along the way, his adherents, of varying degrees of 
faith, streamed out to honour and to attend their Lord, 
— all more or less excited by a vague rumour of what was 
expected at the feast. But their thoughts were not his ; 
he had no intention of going up to Jerusalem, as it were, 
in state. 

While the slowly sinking sun was still flooding the lake 
basin with golden light, and the shadows were yet confined 
to the western bluffs and mountains ; while the peasant 
was still at work with his plough on the little strips of 
lowland, and village folk were busy gathering grapes in 
neighbouring vineyards, Jesus halted for the night at the 
foot of the lake, near the Jordan’s tortuous exit, and 
gathered his disciples about him. Separating the majority 
of them, seventy in number, into a company by them- 
selves, he proceeded to commission them to go forth before 
him, two by two, into the cities and towns of Perma, 
preaching the Gospel of the kingdom, as at the beginning 
of the year the twelve had done in Galilee. His direc- 
tions to them also were much like those given to the 
apostles, and were adapted to the customs of the country 
which they were to traverse, and to the necessarily expe- 
ditious character of their movements. He said : — 

. “ Go your ways: behold, I send you forth as lambs in 
the midst of wolves. Carry no purse, no wallet, no shoes ; 
and salute no man on the way. And into whatsoever 
house ye shall enter, first say. Peace be to this house. 
And if a son of peace be there, your peace shall abide 
upon him : but if not, it shall return to you again. And 
in that same house remain, eating and drinking such things 
as they give : for the labourer is worthy of his hire. Go 
not from house to house. And into whatsoever city ye 


THE STORY OF THE 3IESSIAn. 


339 


enter, and they receive you, eat such things as they set 
before you ; and heal the sick that are therein, and say 
unto them, The kingdom of God is come nigh unto you. 
But into whatsoever city ye shall enter, and they receive 
you not, go out into the streets thereof, and say. Even the 
dust from 3’our city, that cleaveth to our feet, we do wipe 
off against you : howbeit, know this, that the kingdom of 
God is come nigh. I say unto you. It shall be more toler- 
able in that day for Sodom, than for that city.” 

Jesus paused, and looked northward over the quiet, blue 
expanse, in which the fleecy, gold- tinged clouds of sunset 
were brightly mirrored, to the familiar hills beyond, and 
the cities whose streets he had so often walked. Within 
the precincts of those cities he had done many of his 
greatest works ; and yet the mass of their inhabitants 
remained unbelieving, since the days when they discovered 
that his kingdom of heaven was something — what, they 
knew not and cared not — different from their kingdom 
of heaven. 

“ Woe unto thee, Chorazin ! ” he suddenly broke forth 
in a tone of grief, “ woe unto thee, Bethsaida ! for if the 
mighty works had been done in Tyre and Sidon which 
were done in you, they would have repented long ago, 
sitting in sackcloth and ashes. Howbeit, it shall be more 
tolerable for Tyre and Sidon in the judgment, than for you. 
And thou, Capernaum, shalt thou be exalted unto heaven? 
thou shalt be brought down unto Hades : for if the mighty 
works had been done in Sodom which were done in thee, 
it would have remained until this daj^. Howbeit, I say 
unto you, it shall be more tolerable for the land of Sodom 
in the day of judgment than for thee.” 

Turning again to the seventy disciples, he dismissed them 
to their respective camps. 

“ He that heareth you,” he added, “ heareth me ; and he 
that rejecteth you, rejecteth me ; and he that rejecteth me, 
rejecteth Him that sent me.” 


340 


EMMANUEL ; 


On the morrow, accompanied only by the apostles, the 
others remaining after the departure of the seventy having 
been sent back to their homes, Jesus pursued his way 
quietly down the Jordan toward the appointed place of 
meeting with James and John. 

The sons of Zebedee met him with a report in which their 
anger burned hotly. The Samaritans had been not unwill- 
ing to receive Jesus, notwithstanding his Jewish birth, till 
they learned that he was on his way to Jerusalem ; then 
they absolutely refused him any hospitality whatever. The 
true Messiah, they maintained, would restore the kingdom 
to Israel on Mount Gerizim, not at Jerusalem. The inso- 
lent Samaritans, they deserved exemplary punishment for 
such an insult to the Messiah and the Holy City. 

“ Lord,” John broke out, “ wilt thou that we bid fire to 
come down from heaven and consume them, even as Elijah 
did?” 

“ Ye know not what manner of spirit ye are of,” said 
Jesus, in quick rebuke. 

An incident of the late afternoon enabled the Lord to 
make his reproof more forcible, and its justice more appar- 
ent. They had kept on down the west side of the river, 
and had nearly reached the ford by which Jesus meant to 
cross over into Peraea, when, on approaching a certain 
village near the boundary between Samaria and Galilee, 
they were greeted with the leper’s woful cry, “ Unclean, 
unclean ! ” It came from a group of ten stricken men, 
outcasts from the cities and towns of the region. The 
moment they learned who led the approaching company, 
though the men still kept aloof, their cry changed to a new 
and most importunate one. 

“ Jesus, Master, have mercy on us ! ” 

“ Go and show yourselves unto the priests,” was the 
compassionate but authoritative response. 

For an instant the lepers hesitated ; then faith triumphing, 


THE STORY OF THE 2fESSIAH. 


341 


they turned, and set out for Jerusalem. As they went, 
they were cleansed. One of them, a Samaritan, forthwith 
came back, — more desirous now to meet and thank his De- 
liverer than to rid himself of the badges of his loathsome 
disease, — and, filling the air with hallelujahs, fell at the 
Lord’s feet, and spoke his thanksgivings. 

Were not the ten cleansed?” said Jesus, looking from 
the grateful man to the sons of Zebedee, “ but where are 
the nine? Were there none found that returned to give 
glory to God, save this stranger?” Then, to the late 
leper, “Arise, and go thy way: thy faith hath made thee 
whole.” 

The next morning the party crossed the river into Pe- 
rsea, and, avoiding for the present those places where the 
seventy disciples were then preaching, passed rapidly 
southward toward Jericho and the steep wilderness road 
to Jerusalem. 

One member of the apostolic company was full of hope 
and joy beyond all the others. The son of Salmon not 
only looked forward to glorious events at the feast, but an- 
ticipated in addition a joyful reunion with his family. 
Every mile traversed increased his gladness ; every hour 
brought him nearer to his dear blind wife and their chil- 
dren. It was a matter of wonder to him at times that this 
Nazarene prophet should hold him with such power as to 
keep him for so long a time, not indeed forgetful of, but 
absent from, those loved ones in Judaea. But now — now, 
he said to himself with exultation, there would be a change. 
Soon he would not only rejoin them, but have the joy of 
leading his noble Tamar to the Master, and seeing the light 
enter those long-darkened eyes ; soon the daughter of Jesse 
would be unspeakably glad as she looked for the first time 
on the faces of her children. 


342 


EMMANUEL ; 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

THE FEAST OF TABERNACLES.^ 

I am the light of the world. — John vih. 12. 

When the star -beams pierce the night, 

Oft I think on Jesus’ light, — 

Think how bright that light will be, 

Shining through eternity. 

J. Angelus SiLEsrtJS. 

A t Jerusalem the Great Day of Atonement came and 
went. Its solemn services and rigid fast portrayed 
to the people the awful lesson of personal guilt 
before a Holy Deity. The two goats peculiar to the day 
were led to the great altar, one of them sacrificed to God, 
and the other, laden with the sins of the people, driven 
away to Azazel in the wilderness. Four times did the High 
Priest, his costly robes laid aside, enter the Holy of Holies ; 
and ten times did he pronounce in the hearing of Israel the 
sacred and, at other times, unspeakable name of God, 
Jahveh, the people prostrating themselves at each utterance 
of the awful word, and crying, “Blessed be His glorious 
name forever.” 

When the day was over, penitence gave place to rejoic- 
ing, fasting to feasting, solemnity to the gladsome festivi- 
ties of the feast of Tabernacles, — the most joyous festival 
of all the Jewish year. Then vast numbers of pilgrims 
from Judaea, from Galilee, from half-heathen Peraea, and 
from the Hebrew dispersion the world over, came up to the 
Holy City, and in commemoration of the wandering life of 
their ancestors in the wilderness, built for themselves on 
the neighbouring hill-sides temporary shelters in the form of 


1 John vil. 11-ix. 41. 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


343 


small booths of olive, myrtle, or other boughs. This done, 
the countless multitudes flowed through the narrow city 
streets, and across the bridges — or up the steps — into the 
Temple in living streams, each worshipper holding in one 
hand a peach, in the other a lulab, — a cluster of willow 
twigs, or a long frond from the palm-tree. It was the har- 
vest festival of the year, as well as that commemorating 
the wilderness wandering, and, because of the universal re- 
joicings attending it, was by some considered preeminently 
the feast of the Jews. 

The flrst three days of the eight passed as usual. Over 
one-half of the seventy bullocks sacrificed every year at 
that time for the seventy nations of the world had been 
offered ; day by day the Temple trumpets had sent forth 
their twenty-one stirring blasts ; and each morning, before 
a single worshipper had partaken of food, the priests, ac- 
companied by a choir of Levites, and amidst the shouts of 
a vast concourse, had gone down from the inner Temple 
court, and drawn water from the pool of Siloam, bearing it 
thence in a golden vessel up through the Water Gate to the 
great altar, where it was poured out as a libation. Day 
after day, moreover, priests and Levites had chanted the 
hallel, all the assembled Israelites shaking their lulabs at 
the first, twenty-fifth, and concluding verses of the final 
psalm ; while every evening a bright light, illuminating not 
only the Temple, but the adjoining parts of the city, had 
streamed forth from great golden lamps erected on lofty 
stands in the court of the women, the walls of the same 
court reechoing meanwhile with the chanting of the Levites 
from the steps of the Nicanor Gate, and the music of the 
joyful people. Indeed, in no respect was the celebration 
of this year inferior to those of former occasions ; never- 
theless, there was a general feeling that something — some- 
thing confidently expected — was lacking. 

In the intervals between the services, groups of pilgrims 


344 


EMMANUEL ; 


would gather in the cloisters, or in the city streets, and 
discuss quietly the reason for the absence of the great 
Galilsean Rabbi, Jesus of Nazareth. The groups were 
rarely large, and the speakers took pains not to be over- 
heard by strangers, for it was no secret that the rulers 
were opposed to the new Teacher. Nevertheless, the inter- 
est in him was, in fact, universal, very many having come 
to the feast with the confident hope of learning the truth 
at last about this far-famed, much-honoured, and much- 
criticised man. Not a few, when out of hearing of the 
Sanhedrin’s agents, hesitated not to declare themselves in 
his favour. 

“ He is a good man,” they maintained. 

To this, as generally where opposition is based on 
dislike rather than intelligent and candid disbelief, there 
was one stereotyped reply : — 

“ Not so, but he leadeth the multitude astray.” 

Even the Pharisees went about inquiring privately of their 
friends and agents, “ Where is he? have ye seen him?” 

On the morning of the fourth day, the offering being 
over, a scribe and a prominent wealthy elder might have 
been seen standing just without the Beautiful Gate, en- 
gaged in earnest but low-voiced conversation. The 
elder, a man with gray hair, large aquiline features,, and 
proud bearing, was dressed very expensively, but most 
scrupulously after the Pharisaic requirements. The scribe, 
a younger man, and less richly apparelled, was more in- 
tellectual of countenance, though of a like haughty car- 
riage with his fellow. The former was that Simon who 
had so mercilessly oppressed the house of Salmon Ben- 
Eliab ; the other was Rabbi Hakana, leader of the San- 
hedrist opponents of Jesus in Galilee. 

“ How now. Rabbi,” said Simon, as the younger man 
joined him, “ hast thou seen thy Galilman prophet at the 
feast? ” 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


345 


“ Nay, Simon.” Then, continuing, “ Thou knowest he 
is no prophet of mine.” 

“Depend upon it, Hakana, he will not come up hither. 
It is one thing to lead Galilee astray ; it is another to 
deceive the Holy City, and brave its rulers.” 

‘ ‘ Thou knowest not this fellow ; there is a marvellous 
audacity about him. I would not wonder to see him in 
these courts at any moment.” 

“And if he come, thinkest thou he will go hence, once 
more free to delude Gaulanitis and Itursea ? ” 

This reference to his failure to secure the overthrow of 
Jesus in Galilee nettled the scribe. 

“ I tell thee thou knowest not the power of this man 
over the people. And bethink thee, Simon ; how wilt 
thou get Pilate’s consent to the destruction of the 
Nazarene, if the people be not with thee ? ” 

“Pilate! Pilate is a Roman coward. Hast thou for- 
gotten how we forced him to take his idolatrous eagles 
out of the city ? or how our threat of appeal to Augustus 
obliged him to remove the golden shields from the walls 
of the palace? We have but to arouse the multitude, 
and clamour at his gates with the name of Caesar, and he 
will not dare refuse us.” 

“ I am familiar with these matters, as thou well know- 
est,” said the scribe coolly. “ I know the cowardice as 
well as the greed of this minion of Rome. But were the 
multitude to clamour on the wrong side, for the Nazarene 
rather than against him, thinkest. thou, then, Pilate 
would so love us that he would destroy our enemy for us ? 
Hearken, Simon,” dropping his voice, “ it was only last 
night, when that true son of Abraham and faithful friend 
of the Sanhedrin, Ezra, chazzan of our synagogue, in going 
over the north bridge heard two men talking on the walls 
of Antonio. As he knoweth a little of the tongue of the 
uncircumcised, he determined to steal near them in the 


346 


EMMANUEL ; 


darkness, as did Gideon to the host of Midian, and dis- 
cover if the heathen plotted aught of evil against the 
Lord’s people. Thou knowest Sergius, the new tribune 
of the tower ? ” 

“ Thou sayest I know the heathen dog. ’Tis he whom 
Pilate hath brought hither from Gophna to command his 
horde of butchers in the Antonio ; the man who slew the 
Galilaeans at the very altar, and mingled their blood with 
their sacrifices. Perish the day whereon he saw the light ! ” 

“ One of the two was Sergius ; the other seemed a new- 
comer, to whom the Roman was explaining certain matters 
here in the Holy City. Verily the uncircumcised spake 
most insolently of Israel, — the curse of the Lord rest upon 
them ! — but consider this, Simon : Sergius told the stran- 
ger that Pilate is determined to be avenged on us for our 
victories on the occasions thou hast mentioned, and is only 
waiting for some dispute to arise between us and the people 
to side with the rabble, lodge us in the tower, and take our 
property into his own very safe keeping. A fine scheme, 
is it not ? ” 

Simon’s brow grew dark with malignity. 

“ I tell thee,” the scribe went on, “we cannot slay the 
Nazarene so long as the people hold to him. Pilate careth 
no more for the man than we do ; he would crucify him on 
the smallest pretext, did it serve his purpose ; but he careth 
much for us and for our goods, and, if we anger the people, 
we are in the hands of the tyrant.” 

Simon’s tone was less arrogant when next he spoke. 

“ What wouldest thou have us do? ” 

“We must first discredit the impostor with the common 
people ; we must goad him to say things which will alien- 
ate them.” 

“But thinkest thou the people of Jerusalem will follow 
this ignorant Galilman ? Shall we not have all the great- 
est Rabbis here to controvert him? ” 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


347 


The other, in his desire to account for his failure in Gal- 
ilee, answered with a frankness which he would have 
scorned to use to any but one of his own exclusive circle. 

“ Yea, thou sayest we shall ; and if we use our advan- 
tage wisely, it will be sufficient ; but thou knowest not this 
man, Simon. He is not ignorant, as thou sayest ; he hath 
a wonderful knowledge of the Law and the Prophets. 
Moreover, he is keen and quick ; it is next to impossible to 
get the better of him. Then it cannot be denied that there 
is some strange fascination about the man, in his look and 
in the tones of his voice, which holds the common people 
powerfully ; and dost thou forget his miracles ? Beyond 
question he worketh many miracles.” 

These words were too much like a eulogy for Simon’s 
taste. 

“ I perceive,” he returned disdainfully, “ that thou art 
much impressed with our new prophet, our Nazarene 
Messiah. Perchance Pabbi Hakana hath become a dis- 
ciple.” 

“la disciple ! ask him when he cometh to the feast 
if he counteth me one. Ask him. Who, if not Hakana the 
scribe, taught all Capernaum that Beelzebub possessed 
him, and through him did cast out demons ? Have I not 
sat under this impostor’s denunciation, and been pointed 
out by him, I and my fellows, as a wicked and adulterous 
generation? Do I not recall the day when, turning on us, 
he broke out, ‘ Ye offspring of vipers, how can ye, being 
evil, speak good things?’ ” 

“He said that to thee, a teacher of Israel, and thou 
didst not destroy him?” 

“We could not destroy him. There was not a man 
present, ourselves excepted, that was not with him.” 

“ I would have found a way to destroy him.” 

The cold," scornful tones incensed Hakana bitterly. 

“Perchance thou wouldest,” he retorted hotly; “ but 


348 


EMMANUEL ; 


since Simon Ben-Joab is learned in the Scriptures, he muU 
doubtless remember the reply of King Ahab to the threat 
of Ben-Hadad, ‘ Let not him that girdeth on his armour 
boast himself as he that putteth it off.’ Perchance Simon, 
of the great Sanhedrin, would not endure such biting re- 
proach ; but let him reflect that times have changed since 
his warlike ancestor smote Amasa in the fifth rib, and slew 
him in the open highway. I remember that even Ben- 
Joab found no ready revenge when that mad Nazarite in 
the wilderness addressed the like epithets to him and the 
rest of us.” 

Instantly there came back to Simon the bitter recollec- 
tion of that scene at the Jordan ; of John’s bold and 
scathing invective, and his own confusion and powerless- 
ness. 

“ How now, .sir,” he rejoined, choking down his mortifi- 
cation ; “ dost thou presume upon thy office as teacher to 
rebuke thine elder ? ” Then, looking down to the right, 
and nothing loath to drop a controversy in which he had 
been worsted, “ \Yhat Rabbi is he in the Royal Porch who 
draweth such a crowd. Dost thou know him ? ” 

The scribe looked in the quarter indicated, and his 
younger and sharper eyes recognized the teacher around 
whom the throng was so great as entirely to block up the 
spacious cloister. 

“ Wouldest thou know the name of yonder Rabbi? ” he 
replied triumphantly. “Go to him, confute him if thou 
canst, and prove whether I told thee the truth ; for this is 
the Nazarene himself.” 

It was true ; it was Jesus who was teaching in the Royal 
Porch, and as calmly and fearlessly as though by the 
Galilaean sea, surrounded only with admiring friends. 
Simon, on joining the crowd of auditors, found these busy, 
when not listening to the Teacher, recounting the wonder- 
ful career of Jesus, and particularly the miraculous cure of 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH 


849 


the infirm man at the pool of Bethesda, a year and a half 
before. Many, however, were the criticisms of this great 
work, because performed on the Sabbath. Others, pilgrims 
from a distance and unacquainted with Jesus, were aston- 
ished at his knowledge. 

“ How knoweth tjiis man letters,” they exclaimed, 
“ having never learned? ” 

Overhearing these comments, the Master turned toward 
the very quarter where Simon stood with frowning face, 
and replied to both critics and inquirers. 

“ My teaching,” he said, “ is not mine, but His that 
sent me. If any man willeth to do His will, lie shall know 
of the teaching, whether it be of God, or whether I speak 
from myself. He that speaketh from himself seeketh his 
own glory ; but he that seeketh the glory of Him that sent 
him, the same is true, and no unrighteousness is in him.” 
Then, directly to Simon and the scribe, “ Did not Moses 
give you the law? and yet none of you doeth the law. 
Why seek ye to kill me?” 

Simon was taken aback by this knowledge and disclos- 
ure of the Pharisaic plots ; it would not do to have these 
become matters of common report. 

“ Bah ! ” he retorted in the hearing of all, “ thou hast a 
demon : who seeketh to kill thee ? ” 

Taking no notice of this insolence, Jesus went on to 
expose the groundlessness of the criticisms of the Bethesda 
miracle. 

“ I did one work, and ye all marvel because thereof. 
Moses hath given you circumcision (not that it is of 
Moses, but of the fathers) ; and on the Sabbath ye cir- 
cumcise a man. If a man receive circumcision on the 
Sabbath, that the law of Moses may not be broken, are 
ye wroth with me, because I made a man every whit whole 
on the Sabbath? Judge not according to appearances, 
but judge righteous judgment. 


350 


EMMA NUEL ; 


The Lord and the twelve then withdrew to their booths 
on the Mount of Olives, to remain till night. Similar scenes 
there were on the three days ensuing. In the morning 
Jesus would repair to the Temple with his followers, each 
bearing the usual peach and green lulab, and unite with 
the other pilgrims in the joyous ceremonies of the morning 
offering, and the pouring of the libation on the great altar. 
Then, till noon, he would teach the multitude, with the 
greatest plainness and fearlessness, and yet without giving 
his Pharisaic opponents ground for grave charge or suc- 
cessful cavil. The afternoon was spent with his disciples 
on the mountain side, the evening in the Temple again 
with the joyful concourse. 

On the eighth and last day of the feast, a day of holy 
convocation, and of special rejoicing, in that on it the 
pilgrims marched seven times around the Holy City with 
music and loud hosannas in commemoration of the capture 
of Jericho, — on this day Jesus arrived in the Temple 
somewhat before the time for the morning oblation, and 
a crowd collecting about him, he began to teach. By this 
time, however, opinion differed so much in regard to him, 
and, after Eastern fashion, opposing views found voice so 
readily, that the Master could hardly make himself heard. 
On every side were to be heard such exclamations and 
replies as: “Is not this he whom they seek to kill?” 
— to some in the city, notwithstanding Simon’s scoff, the 
bitterness of Rabbinical feeling was a patent fact, — “ and 
lo, he speaketh openly, and they say nothing unto him ! ” 
“ Can it be that the rulers know indeed that this is the 
Christ?” “But we know this man whence he is; but, 
when the Christ cometh, no man knoweth whence he is.” 

“ Ye both know me,” said Jesus, lifting his voice, “ and 
know whence I am ; and I am not come of myself, but He 
that sent me is true, wdiom ye know not. I know Him ; 
because I am from Him, and He sent me.” 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


351 


The Lord’s Pharisaic hearers saw in these words a claim 
of divine origin and authority ; and they immediately con- 
sulted together as to the advisability of apprehending 
him on the spot, and hurrying him before the rulers ; but 
a certain awe of their antagonist, and an uncertainty as 
to how the common people would look upon the arrest, 
held them back. They were the more alarmed on this 
latter score from remarks overheard by them as the people 
streamed into the inner courts to witness the morning 
sacrifice. 

“ When the Christ shall come,” many were saying 
already, “ will he do more signs than those which this man 
hath done?” 

The Pharisees took counsel with prudence, therefore, and 
hastening, immediately after the offering, to a hall in the 
outer court, laid their report before the Sanhedrin. This 
body, its Sadducaean members being finally aroused to an 
interest in the matter, had been discussing for several days 
the best means of opposing the Nazarene Prophet. The 
report of this morning proved the decisive element in their 
deliberations. “ This fellow must be checked,” they said ; 
“ he must be shown that no man can undermine the relig- 
ion of the fathers with impunity.” Disregarding the 
protest of Hakana, they despatched officers to apprehend 
the Lord. The officers found Jesus seated on one of the 
steps of the cloistered Nicanor Gate, in the court of the 
women, a multitude of apparently admiring hearers before 
him. They naturally concluded that it would be more 
prudent to make the arrest after the crowd had dispersed ; 
and so mingled with the people as ordinary listeners. 
They were not disguised to the eye of Jesus, however; 
he saw in their approach another step toward the end. 

“Yet a little while am I with you,” he said sadly, 
“and I go unto Him that sent me. Ye shall seek me, 
and shall not find me : and where I am, ye cannot come.” 


352 


EMMANUJElL ; 


“ Whither will this man go that we shall not find him ?” 
was the mystified and irritated comment of some in the 
throng of Pharisaic leanings ; “ will he go into the disper- 
sions among the Greeks, and teach the Greeks ? What is 
this word that he said, Ye shall seek me, and shall not 
find me : and where I am, ye cannot come ? ” 

The Lord continued his discourse without noticing these 
queries, the multitude, feeling the lack of the joyous liba- 
tion service, — which on previous days had occupied that 
hour, — meantime growing larger and larger. Suddenly 
the Teacher stopped, and rising, and mounting a few steps 
nearer the pillared portico, looked silently over the dense 
throng filling the court from end to end. Percemng how 
generally the absence of the gladsome ceremony of draw- 
ing the water from Siloam was felt, Jesus broke forth in 
a lowered key, perfectly audible, however, to all in the 
hushed congregation: “If any man thirst, let him come 
unto me, and drink. He that believeth on me, as the 
Scripture hath said, from within him shall flow rivers of 
living water.” 

Little as these words were understood at the time, it 
was impossible not to be impressed by them, and awed by 
the simple majesty of the speaker. Even the incredulous 
Pharisee and the indifferent officer of the Sanhedrin felt 
the power of the quiet and gracious, but absolutely confi- 
dent, words. In the hush following, Jesus turned, and 
passing through the great gate and the court of Israel, 
made his way into the city unmolested. 

“ This is of a truth the prophet,” was heard in various 
directions when he was gone. 

“ This is the Christ,” said others, more confident. 

“ What,” responded the objector, “ doth the Christ come 
out of Galilee? Hath not the Scripture said that the 
Christ cometh of the seed of David, and from Bethlehem, 
the village where David was?” 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


853 


The officers sent to apprehend Jesus, in their interest in 
his words, had forgotten their mission ; not till the Master 
had disappeared did it recur to them, and then they dared 
not follow him. It was not only the people that they 
feared ; they were in awe of the remarkable man toward 
whom, with his blending of purity and power, they felt in 
a dull Tvay that violence would be closely akin to sacrilege. 

“ Why did ye not bring him ? ” was the angry demand of 
the Rabbis, as they appeared empty handed. 

Abashed, and fearful of punishment, the officers stam- 
mered out the truth. 

“ Never man so spake.” 

“ Are ye also led astray? Hath any of the rulers be- 
lieved on him, or of the Pharisees? But this multitude 
who knoweth not the law are accursed.” 

Nakdimon alone dared to stem, in even a feeble way, the 
tide of angry opposition setting against the Redeemer of 
Israel. 

“ Doth our law judge a man,” he interposed timidly, 
“ except it first hear from himself, and know what he 
doeth?” 

‘ ‘ Art thou also of Galilee ? ” Simon retorted as the ses- 
sion broke up, “ Search, and see that out of Galilee ariseth 
no prophet.” 

Nakdimon was silent, though this astonishing assertion, 
impossible from any one versed in the Scriptures whose arro- 
gance did not exceed his learning, had no weight with him 
whatever. He did not forget that Jonah, Nahum, Hosea, 
and even Elijah, greatest of the prophets, had been Gali- 
lieans ; but he possessed that sensitiveness, easily degener- 
ating into timidity, which so often accompanies a thoughtful 
and scholarly mind, and he dreaded a conflict with a man 
like Simon, whose verj* coarseness of fibre and aggressive 
selfishness rendered him almost impervious to attack. 

Jesus did not appear in the Temple again that day ; but 


354 


EMMANUEL ; 


early the next morning, while it was yet dark, he was 
among the first to answer to the triple blast of the Temple 
trumpets. The lamb had been slain, its blood caught, and 
its body cut in pieces and burned on the great altar ; the 
glowing censer had been carried into the Holy Place and 
covered with incense ; the priests had poured out the morn- 
ing drink-offering ; the twelve Levites had chanted the 
psalms for the day ; and still the sunlight gilding hill-tops 
northward and southward had cast not a ray upon the 
glistening walls of the Sanctuary. The congregation, while 
awaiting its coming as the signal for morning prayer, and 
finding Jesus among them, thronged about him as usual. 
Again he seated himself on the steps in the court of the 
women, — also known as the Treasury, from the presence 
in it of the chests for receiving offerings, — and began to 
teach. He was quickly interrupted ; the Eabbis had, as 
they supposed, discovered a way to entrap him. 

The vast throngs at the feast, and the extemporized 
shelters in which all dwelt, citizens of Jerusalem and 
strangers alike, gave unusual opportunity for those sins of 
unchastity which were the characteristic and the condemna- 
tion of the age. An offender in this regard, a woman, — 
the male transgressor, as usual, having found a way of 
escape not open to her, and a leniency of judgment not to 
be thought of in her behalf, — had just been brought to 
the Sanhedrin for punishment ; whereupon the Rabbis had 
determined that Jesus should pass sentence upon her. 
Should he revive the fearful Mosaic enactment, they argued, 
he would come under the frown and perhaps the sword of 
the Roman power, and at the same time offend the people, 
who were not ready for such a Draconian penalty for a very 
common offence ; whereas, should he modify the ancient 
punishment, as doubtless he would, they would be able to 
discredit him with his followers by maintaining that no man 
could be the Messiah who followed not Moses. It was. 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


355 


therefore, with confident looks that they made their way 
through the crowd on this occasion, and ranged themselves 
before their opponent, two officers clearing the way, and 
pushing the guilt}" woman to the front. 

Thoma’s brow darkened as he fell back with his com- 
panions, for in the front rank of the Sanhedrist delegation 
he caught sight of the enemy of his house, Simon the Phar- 
isee ; but a glance from his Master, who sat undisturbed 
amidst the general movement, enabled him to quell the 
angry passion in his heart ; he had consented for Jesus’ 
sake to forgive this man. He turned his eyes, therefore, 
from the proud figure so disturbing to him, and fixed them 
on that of the guilty woman standing alone with downcast 
eyes and ashen cheeks in the midst of her persecutors. As 
she stood cowering, she reminded him of some beautiful 
flowering shrub whose roots had been laid bare by the plough 
of the husbandman, and whose every leaf and blossom in 
consequence was hanging limp and shrivelling in a scorch- 
ing sunshine. 

“ Teacher,” — the words were those of Simon the Phari- 
see, — “this woman hath been taken in adultery, in the 
very act. Now in the law Moses commanded us to stone 
such ; what then sayest thou of her? ” 

Jesus looked from the self-righteous accusers to the 
trembling culprit, and read at a glance the guilt of each. 
Plainly, from the woman’s manner, she had sinned ; plainly, 
also, she was undergoing the tortures of retribution. The 
guilt of her accusers, not less manifest, was even more 
painful to see, since it was unconfessed and unpunished, 
and therefore without promise of covering itself with re- 
pentance. The Master bent forward and began to trace 
letters in the dust before him, sorrowing that among the 
rulers of Israel there should be men heartless enough to 
find satisfaction in the ruin of another’s life, because of the 
excellent foil thus made for their own self-righteousness ; 


356 


EMMANUEL ; 


and cruel enough, for the mere annoyance of an opponent, 
to put a poor woman to keen and needless torture. The 
Pharisees misinterpreted the silence and the pained look 
of Jesus ; they understood these signs to mean that they 
had entrapped their foe at last ; consequently they repeated 
their demand with fresh emphasis, determined that, if he 
did not reply, his defeat and confusion should be plain to 
everybody. 

“ He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a 
stone at her,” returned the Master, raising himself for an 
instant, and meeting quietly and sadly the exulting regard 
of his foes. 

Then, stooping over once more, he resumed his writing. 
So intense was the interest in the scene that the low 
words were heard by the bystanders to a considerable 
distance ; and not one of the proud accusers dared to 
take up such a challenge in the presence of assembled 
Israel. But what else was to be done ? their position was 
growing intolerable ; with the eyes of the people upon 
them they must do something. Simon, therefore, with an 
endeavour to conceal his chagrin beneath a lofty bearing, 
wrapped his Pharisaic cloak about him, and strode through 
the crowd to the Beautiful Gate, his fellow Pharisees, 
from the oldest to the youngest, silently following one by 
one. 

“How now, Ben-Joab, what did I tell thee?” said a 
voice at Simon’s side when the Chel was reached. “ Why 
did not the shrewd Simon, versed in the Scriptures and 
the halakhah, entrap and confute this ignorant Galilaean? ” 

“I tell thee, Hakana,” was the angry return, “the 
fellow shall die the death ; I swear to thee by the gold of 
the Temple he shall die.” 

In the crowded court the silence was almost painful. 
The erring woman, who had almost fainted with terror at 
Jesus’ reply to the Pharisees, began to cast timid, hopeful 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


357 


glances toward her judge. Presently the Master raised 
himself, and looked at her as she stood alone, her face 
now crimsoned with shame. 

‘‘Woman, where are they?” he said gently, “did no 
man condemn thee?” 

“ No man. Lord,” tremblingly, and with a passionate 
intentness of gaze at Jesus, such as a starving man might 
bestow on food which he feared was beyond his reach. 

“ Neither do I condemn thee,” and the Lord’s tone was 
grave, but tender: “go thy way; from henceforth sin no 
more.” 

Immediately the dawn of a new life could be seen in the 
joy and hope lighting up her face, and in the contrite 
tears starting from her eyes. She cast herself on the 
stone steps, and reverently kissed the feet of her Deliverer ; 
then, with covered head and a form shaken with sobs, slie 
hurried away into the city. The authorities were never 
called upon to deal with her again. 

Just then the gilded spikes on the roof of the Holy 
House sparkled with the first of the sun’s rays, seeing 
which, all in the court, Jesus included, lifted hands and 
faces heavenward in prayer. 

The morning devotions completed, the Lord, who had 
risen from worship, seated himself again, and began a 
memorable discourse, the form of which was determined 
largely by the interruptions of Pharisaic listeners, and the 
matter of which his hearers understood, — or failed to 
understand, according to the clearness of their spiritual 
vision or the degree of their spiritual blindness, — many of 
the words, though often pondered over, remaining inexpli- 
cable even to the twelve, till certain days of illumination in 
the following spring disclosed their deep and blessed sig- 
nificance. Jesus gazed at the upper walls of the Temple, 
then bright with golden sunshine, until the eyes of the 
people followed his, and then said ; — : 


358 


EMMANUEL ; 


‘ ‘ I am the light of the world ; he that followeth me shall 
not walk in the darkness, but shall have the light of life.” 

“Thou bearest witness of thyself; thy witness is not 
true,” broke in a Pharisee bystander. 

“ Even if I bear witness of myself,” continued Jesus, 
composedly, “ my witness is true ; for I know whence I 
came and whither I go ; but ye know not whence I came, 
or whither I go. Ye judge after the flesh ; I judge no man. 
Yea, and if I judge, my judgment is true ; for I am not 
alone, but I and the Father that sent me. Yea, and in your 
law it is written, that the witness of two men is true. I 
am he that beareth witness of myself, and the Father 
that sent me beareth witness of me.” 

“ Where is thy Father? ” 

“Ye neither know me nor my Father: if ye knew me, 
ye would know my Father also.” 

The Pharisees were baffled again. This statement 
seemed a reasonable one ; and yet they suspected that 
by his Father Jesus meant none other than God ; but how 
could he be led or forced to make this clear to the people ? 

“ I go away,” the Lord went on, “ and ye shall seek me, 
and shall die in your sin : whither I go ye cannot come.” 

“ Will he kill himself,” muttered the critics, “ that he 
saith, ‘ Whither I go ye cannot come ’ ? ” 

“Ye are from beneath,” — the words were grave and 
deliberate, — “I am from above. Ye are of this world ; 
I am not of this world. I said, therefore, unto you, that 
ye shall die in your sins : for except ye believe that I am 
he, ye shall die in your sins.” 

“ Who art thou? ” 

“ Altogether that which I have also spoken unto you 
from the beginning. I have many things to speak and to 
judge concerning you : howbeit. He that sent me is true ; 
and the things which I heard from Him, these things speak 
I unto the world.” 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH 


359 


With a singular clulness neither Pharisees nor people 
saw that this was another allusion to that unknown Father 
whom, as the former suspected, he claimed to be God. 
Jesus, therefore, made the allusion plainer ; for though he 
wished to avoid violent opposition for the time , yet to bear 
witness to the truth was his mission. 

‘‘ When ye have lifted up the Son of man,” he contin- 
ued, “ then shall ye know that I am he, and that I do 
nothing of myself ; but as the Father taught me, I speak 
these things. And He that sent me is with me ; He hath 
not left me alone ; for I do always the things that are 
pleasing to Him.” 

By this time many at the feast had become believers in 
Jesus. The power of his teaching and his works, and the 
charm of his nature, had so impressed them, that the calm, 
peremptory words in which he claimed to be the God-given 
Messiah were accepted without challenge ; and, to their 
own hearts, they confessed that this was indeed he that 
should come. 

“If ye abide in my word,” said Jesus to these new ad- 
herents, “ then are ye truly my disciples ; and ye shall 
know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.” 

“We are Abraham’s seed, and have never been in bond- 
age to any man,” broke in the Pharisees haughtily and 
falsely : “ how sayest thou. Ye shall be made free? ” 

“ Every one that committeth sin is the bondservant of 
sin. And the bondservant abideth not in the house for- 
ever : the Son abideth forever. If, therefore, the Son shall 
make you free, ye shall be free indeed. I know that ye 
are Abraham’s seed ; yet ye seek to kill me, because my 
word hath not free course in you. I speak the things 
which I have seen with my Father: and ye also do the 
things which ye heard from your father.” 

“ Our father is Abraham,” was the proud response. 

“ If ye were Abraham’s children, ye would do the works 


860 


EMMANUEL ; 


of Abraham. But now ye seek to kill me, a man that hath 
told you the truth, which I heard from God : this did not 
Abraham. Ye do the works of your father.” 

The Pharisees interrupted him again immediately ; did 
this Nazarene intend to indicate some opprobrious parent- 
age for them? 

“ We were not born of fornication,” they said; ‘‘we 
have one Father, even God.” 

“ If God were your Father,” returned Jesus quietly and 
sadly, “ ye would love me ; for I came forth and am come 
from God ; for neither have 1 come of myself, but He sent 
me.” Then, sternly, and with severe aspect and search- 
ing glance, “ Why do ye not understand my speech ? Even 
because ye cannot hear my word. Ye are of your father 
the Devil, and the lusts of your father it is your will to 
do.” After an allusion to the utter falseness of the Evil 
One, he went on, “Which of you convinceth me of sin? 
If I say the truth, why do ye not believe me ? He that is 
of God heareth the words of God ; for this cause ye hear 
them not, because yQ are not of God.” 

“Say we not well that thou art a Samaritan, and hast a 
demon?” retorted the Pharisees, on recovering from their 
confusion under the stern arraignment. 

“ I have not a demon ; but I honour my Father, and ye 
dishonour me.” 

Knowing, however, how fruitless any discussion with the 
Pharisees would prove, so far as they themselves were con- 
cerned, he abruptly turned his teaching back into the chan- 
nel of admonition to the new disciples from which the 
interruptions of his critics had diverted it. 

“ Verily, verily, I say unto you. If a man keep my word, 
he shall never see death ” — 

“ Now we know that thou hast a demon,” put in his 
opponents. “Abraham died, and the prophets; and thou 
sayest, If a man keep my word, he shall never taste of 


rilE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


361 


death. Art thou greater than our father Abraham, who 
died ? And the prophets died : whom makest thou thy- 
self?” 

Before answering this question, the Lord quietly reit- 
erated his explanation that his claims for himself were 
confirmed by his Father, the One whom they called their 
God. 

“ Your father Abraham,” he went on, “ rejoiced to see 
my day ; and he saw it and was glad.” 

“ Thou art not yet fifty years old,” was the derisive 
response, “ and hast thou seen Abraham? ” 

Jesus rose to his feet, girded his tallith about him, and 
viewed the excited concourse with entire composure. 

“ Verily, verily, I say unto you,” calmly and decidedly, 
‘‘ before Abraham was born, I am.” 

The people were startled ; the Pharisees, furious. With 
characteristic readiness for violence they rushed to the 
walls of the court, where the masons, the rebuilding of the 
Temple being not yet completed, had left more or less 
debris., and seizing fragments of stone, turned upon their 
foe. Why were the missiles unhurled? why did they 
stand thus irresolute before a single defenceless man, 
whose position on the steps above the people made him 
so fair a mark? These were questions which they asked 
themselves afterward, but to which they could find no 
satisfactory answers. But thrown the stones certainly 
were not. Had they been willing to learn the truth, the 
Pharisees might have perceived that the fearless manhood 
in this undaunted Galilaean, together with the blended 
purity and gentle compassion of his look, had impressed 
and disconcerted even those least capable of appreciating 
such qualities. To Thoma, the check to their fury was 
hardly less remarkable than the stilling of the winds and 
the waves on the storm-swept lake in Galilee. 

The moment of irresolution was fatal to their purpose 


362 


EMMANUEL ; 


of violence; Jesus disappeared among the pillars of the 
portico above. The son of Salmon followed with the other 
disciples, lost in thought over the Lord’s astonishing decla- 
ration, “ Before Abraham was born, I am.” What did it 
mean? Well he remembered the blessed night when, in 
his beloved Bethlehem, this Jesus had come unto the 
world as a little babe, — an angel-heralded child, indeed, 
but still a child, like every other son of Adam. What 
then did the Master mean by declaring, “ Before Abraham 
was born, I am ” ? 

It was the Sabbath after the feast, and Jesus was on his 
way to the Temple. As they crossed the upper bridge, 
the disciples called their Master’s attention to a blind 
beggar who sat by the wayside, holding out his hand for 
alms, and occasionally beseeching some nearer passer to 
have pity on him. John dropped a small coin into the 
man’s outstretched baud, and asked him a question. 

Then turning to Jesus he said, “ Rabbi, who did sin, 
this man, or his parents, that he should be born blind?” 
Jesus stopped, and, as he saw the rags and other evidences 
of want to which in the Orient a disabling misfortune inev- 
itably dooms a poor man, that look of compassion which 
his followers knew so well came over his face. 

“ Neither did this man sin, nor his parents,” was the 
reply ; “but that the works of God should be made mani- 
fest in him. We must work the works of Him that sent 
me, while it is day ; the night cometh, when no man can 
work. When I am in the world, I am the light of the 
world.” 

While he was speaking, the blind man, learning who he 
was from the chance remark of a passer, turned his face 
toward him with a keenly interested, almost rapt, expres- 
sion. The appeal in his countenance was not in vain ; 
Jesus anointed his sightless eyes with clay, made with a 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


363 


little spittle, and bade him go and wash in the Pool of 
Siloain. The man’s opportunities of learning of Jesus had 
been few, but they were sufficient to give that brief and un- 
explained command reasonableness and authority for him. 

Half an hour later he was seen climbing the steps from 
the Tyropceon to the west porch of the Temple, no longer 
blind, no longer feeling his way painfully with a staff, but 
filled with exultation over the possession of a new sense 
and the sight of a world hitherto for him existing in dark- 
ness only. He was so well known in the city, and espe- 
cially to frequenters of the Temple, that he soon began to 
attract notice in his new condition. 

“Is not this he that sat and begged?” his neighbours 
and others exclaimed. 

“It is he.” 

“ Nay, but he is like him.” 

“ I am he,” broke in the restored man. 

“ How then were thine eyes opened ? ” 

The man related the story of the healing. 

“ Where is he?” when it became known that Jesus had 
performed the cure. 

“ I know not.” 

Certain of the people, indignant that Jesus had again 
broken the traditional Sabbatical rules, brought the man 
into the inner court, where a number of Pharisees were 
gathered. At the demand of these, the healed man re- 
peated his story. When he had finished, a division of 
opinion arose among his hearers. Most of them were 
thoroughly angry, not only at this new infraction of the 
Kabbinical Sabbath, but even more at the increased popular 
support which they foresaw the miracle would give their 
enemy ; others, more earnest of heart, and not accessories 
to the Rabbinical plot, were profoundly impressed by the 
great work of healing, notwithstanding the day on which it 
was wrought. 


864 


EMMANUEL ; 


“ This man is not from God, because he keepeth not the 
Sabbath,’^ exclaimed the former with sanctimonious ges- 
ticulations, seeking to break the force of the popular im- 
pression. 

“ How can a man that is a sinner do such signs?” re- 
torted the minority in real perplexity. 

To avoid a dispute before the people, the first speakers 
turned again to the man. 

“What sayest thou of him, in that he opened thine 
eyes?” 

“ He is a prophet.” 

But such emphatic testimonies to Jesus it was no part of 
the Pharisaic plan to multiply ; they therefore closed the 
investigation abruptly, summoning the man and his parents 
to appear in the synagogue with which they were connected 
at the afternoon service. 

When the hour for that came round, a number of promi- 
nent scribes gathered with the Pharisee inquisitors to in- 
vestigate this new case of Sabbath breaking. The parents 
of the lately blind man were first subjected to examination. 

“ Is this your son, who ye say was born blind?” they 
were asked ; “ how then doth he now see? ” 

The parents were in fear of the august questioners, well 
knowing that to confess belief in Jesus was to incur excom- 
munication. 

“We know that this is our son, and that he was born 
blind,” said the father timidly, and with prevarication ; 
“ but how he now seeth, we know not ; or who opened his 
eyes, we know not ; ask him ; he is of age ; he shall speak 
for himself.” 

The son was then called up to the front of the elders' 
seats. 

“ Give glory to God,” said one of the Rabbis severely ; 
“ we know that this man is a sinner.” 

“ Whether he be a sinner, I know not,” was the sturdy 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


365 


reply , in quite another spirit from the cringing of the cripple 
of Bethesda ; “ one thing I know, that, whereas I was 
blind, now I see.” 

“What did he to thee? ’’was the frowning rejoinder ; 
“how opened he thine eyes?” 

“ I told you even now, and ye did not hear,” exclaimed 
the man impatiently and recklessly, seeing that his case 
and his Benefactor’s were prejudged and hopeless ; 
“wherefore would ye hear it again? Would ye also be- 
come his disciples? 

Then the angry Pharisees, dropping all pretence to im- 
partial inquiry, and taking up the time-honoured position 
of bigotry in all ages, broke out, “ Thou art his disciple, 
but we are disciples of Moses. We know that God hath 
spoken unto Moses : but as for this man we know not 
whence he is.” 

“Why, herein is a marvel,” retorted the man, quick to 
see that Israel’s proud teachers, the reputed repositories of 
all wisdom, had made a damaging admission, “ that ye 
know not whence he is, and yet he opened mine eyes. We 
know that God heareth not sinners : but if any man be a 
worshipper of God, and do His will, him He heareth. Since 
the world began it was never heard that any one opened 
the eyes of a man born blind. If this man were not from 
God, he could do nothing.” 

Such words to the rulers of Israel were, of course, unpar- 
donable, the more so that they were irrefutable. 

“ Thou wast altogether born in sins,” cried the enraged 
scribes, “ and dost thou teach us?” 

What poor satisfaction for a conspicuous defeat was to 
be gained by the use of the ecclesiastical anathema was 
promptly secured : they cast out of the synagogue the man 
who had been bold enough to accept the gift of sight from 
an unordained Teacher on the Sabbath, and manly enough 
to testify in behalf of his Deliverer. 


366 


EMMANUEL ; 


The Master found Mm in the Temple the following day. 

“Dost thou believe on the Son of God?” he asked, 
knowing that the man had been excommunicated on his 
account. 

“ And who is he, Lord, that I may believe on him? ” 

“ Thou hast both seen him,” said Jesus, with unusual 
readiness of self-disclosure, “and he it is that speak eth 
with thee.” 

“ Lord, I believe,” came from the man’s very heart, as 
he kneeled at the Master’s feet. 

“ For judgment,” said Jesus, looking down at the 
reverent figure, “ came I into this world, that they who 
see not may see ; and that they who see may become 
blind.” 

“ Are we also blind,” said certain Pharisees standing 
by, animosity quickening their perceptions. 

“If ye were blind,” was the grave, sad reply, “ ye 
would have no sin : but now ye say. We see: your sin 
remaineth.” 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH 


367 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

THE GOOD SHEPHERD.^ 

The Lord is my shepherd ; I shall not want. 

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures ; 

Ho leadeth me beside the still waters. 

Psalm xxiii. 1, 2. 

A S a matter of course, Jesus could not walk the streets 
of the Holy City and frequent the Temple courts 
day after day without exciting constant comment. 
“What think ye of him? is he that prophet? ’’ “Can 
this be the Messiah?” — such were the questions heard on 
every side. The unwavering opposition of the Pharisees 
and their scribes greatly increased the popular perplexity. 
Which was right? this pure-browed, mightily endowed, but 
unauthenticated, Galilaean, or the formidable array of proud 
and honoured teachers opposed to him? This constantly 
arising query Jesus finally met with a parable, descriptive 
at once of the true teacher and leader, and of those by 
whom he expected to be acknowledged as such. 

“Verily, verily, I say unto you,” it ran, “He that 
entereth not by the door into the fold of the sheep, but 
climbeth up some other way, the same is a thief and a 
robber. But he that entereth in by the door is the shep- 
herd of the sheep. To him the porter openeth ; and the 
sheep hear his voice : and he calleth his own sheep by 
name, and leadeth them out. When he hath put forth all 
his own, he goeth before them, and the sheep follow him : 
for they know his voice. And a stranger will they not 
follow, but will flee from him : for they know not the voice 
of strangers.” 


1 John X. 1-21 ; Luke x. 17-42. 


368 


EMMANUEL ; 


The people followed this description readily enough ; it 
was all true and familiar; but its application they were 
totally at a loss to surmise. 

“Verily, verily, I say unto you,” the Lord continued, 
making his meaning plainer while he changed the figure, 
“ I am the door of the sheep. All that came before me are 
thieves and robbers : but the sheep did not hear them. I 
am the door : by me if any man enter in, he shall be saved, 
and shall go in and go out, and shall find pasture. 

“ The thief cometh not,” falling back on the original 
metaphor, “ but that he may steal, and kill, and destroy: 
I came that they may have life, and may have it abun- 
dantly. I am the good Shepherd : the good shepherd 
layeth down his life for the sheep. He that is an hireling, 
and not a shepherd, whose own the sheep are not, beholdeth 
the wolf coming, and leaveth the sheep, and fleeth, and the 
wolf snatcheth them, and scattereth them : he fleeth because 
he is an hireling, and careth not for the sheep. I am the 
good Shepherd ; and I know mine own, and mine own 
know me, even as the Father knoweth me, and I know the 
Father ; and I lay down my life for the sheep. And other 
sheep I have, which are not of this fold : them also I must 
bring, and they shall hear my voice ; and they shall become 
one flock, one Shepherd. Therefore doth my Father love 
me, because I lay down my life, that I may take it again.” 

With dignity and insistence came the closing words : — 

“No one taketh it away from me, but I lay it down of 
myself. I have power to lay it down, and I have power 
to take it again. This commandment received I of my 
Father.” 

The Master passed on with the twelve, and the crowd 
dispersed, the disciples in it feeling drawn more strongly than 
ever to this good Shepherd who knew his own ; the Pharisees 
in the main vexed that nothing had been said which gavfe 
them clear ground for accusation before the rulers, 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


369 


‘‘ Bah ! ” they ejaculated, turning to tlie more interested 
bystanders, “ he hath a demon and is mad ; why hear ye 
him?” 

Tlie common people feared to reply in opposition ; but 
the small minority among the Pharisees themselves were 
not so easily overawed. 

“ These are not the sayings of one possessed with a 
demon,” they said. “ Can a demon open the eyes of the 
blind?” 

A few days afterward, as the Master was again in the 
Temple, subjected as usual to Sanhedrist surveillance, no 
little stir was created by the coming of a considerable body 
of men inquiring for Jesus of Nazareth. On encountering 
him in one of the cloisters, the new-comers, who proved to 
be the seventy disciples sent forth through Perma, pros- 
trated themselves reverently before their Lord, and gave 
an enthusiastic account of their labours. From city to city 
they had gone, they declared, preaching the glad tidings 
of the kingdom ; and everywhere their power over disease 
had won for them an honoured reception. 

“Lord,” they cried joyfully, “even the demons are 
subject unto us in thy name.” 

Jesus listened with a smile of welcome and pleasure. 

“ I beheld Satan fallen as lightning from heaven,” he 
replied with sympathetic, but more controlled, enthusiasm, 
and with a certain air of abstraction which convinced 
Thoma in after years that the Lord was thinking, not of 
the present only, but also of days to follow. “ Behold, I 
have given you authority to tread upon serpents and scor- 
pions, and over all the power of the enemy : and nothing 
shall in any wise hurt you. Howbeit, in this rejoice not, 
that the spirits are subject unto you ; but rejoice that your 
names are written in heaven.” Then, with gaze uplifted 
toward the cloister’s lofty roof, “ I thank Thee, O Father, 


870 


EMMANUEL ; 


Lord of heaven and earth, that Thou didst hide these things 
from the wise and understanding, and didst reveal them 
unto babes! yea. Father; for so it was well pleasing in 
Thy sight. 

“ All things,” he went on, addressing the people, at 
first with solemnity, then with tenderness and winsomeness, 
as the statement of divine authority and power passed into 
the appeal for which it was the basis, — “all things have 
been delivered unto me of my Father : and no one knoweth 
the Son, save the Father ; neither doth any know the 
Father, save the Son, and he to whomsoever the Son 
willeth to reveal Him. Come unto me, all ye that labour 
and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my 
yoke upon you, and learn of me ; for I am meek and lowly 
in heart : and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my 
yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” 

Presently Jesus arose, and the congregation broke up. 
Some of the people went away with the spell of the Lord’s 
words upon them ; others — and it was most discouraging 
to note how many — seemed only mystified, and ready to 
fall in, more or less, with the disparaging comments of 
hostile critics. 

“Blessed are the eyes which see the things that ye 
see,” said Jesus to the twelve in a lowered and half- 
mournful tone : “ for I say unto you, that many prophets 
and kings desired to see the things which ye see, and saw 
them not.” 

The Master did not escape from the Temple undelayed ; 
the query of a certain Rabbi brought him to a standstill. 
The scribe, seated in the porch with his pupils around him, 
thought to win applause by puzzling and possibly confut- 
ing the obnoxious Galilaean who was stirring up Jerusalem 
and the nation. 

“ Teacher,” he said, rising as Jesus pressed by, “ what 
shall I do to inherit eternal life ? ” 


TBE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


371 


What is written in the law? how readest thou?” 

The Rabbi answered in the familiar words enclosed in 
the prayer-boxes. 

“ Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, 
and with all thy soul, and with all thy strength, and with 
all thy mind ; and thy neighbour as thyself.” 

“Thou hast answered right,” was the quiet response : 
“ this do, and thou shalt live.” 

“ And who is my neighbour?” put in the scribe quickly, 
seeing Jesus about to move ou. 

The interrogator had chosen his question well ; it was 
one that had long excited widespread interest among all 
classes. Jesus seated himself, and gave his answer in the 
form of* a story of that rocky wilderness way from the 
Holy City to the Jordan in which deeds of violence were 
so common as to have earned for it the title of “The 
Bloody Road.” 

“A certain man,” he said, “was going down from 
Jerusalem to Jericho; and he fell among robbers, who 
both stripped him and beat him, and departed, leaving him 
half dead. And by chance a certain priest was going 
down that way : and when he saw him, he passed by on 
the other side. And in like manner a Levite also, when he 
came to the place, and saw him, passed by on the other 
side. But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came 
where he was : and when he saw him, he was moved with 
compassion, and came to him, and bound up his wounds, 
pouring on them oil and wine ; and he set him on his own 
beast, and brought him to an inn, and took care of him. 
And on the morrow he took out two shillings, and gave 
them to the host, and said. Take care of him ; and what- 
soever thou spendest more, I, when I come back again, 
will repay thee. Which of these three, thinkest thou, 
proved neighbour unto him that fell among the robbers ? ” 
The people had followed with keen interest a narrative, 


372 


EMMANUEL ; 


every detail of which they could so easily picture to them- 
selves ; the wild, dangerous road, the lonely traveller 
suddenly overtaken by foot-pads, the priest and Levite 
making their very sanctity and fear of ceremonial pollution 
a sufficient bar to giving aid to a sorely stricken neighbour, 
and the stranger in the goodness of his heart leaping over 
the far^reater bar, the all but impassable wall of mutual 
hate between Jew and Samaritan. Naturally all eyes fol- 
lowed those of Jesus, and rested on the Rabbi, awaiting 
his reply. The latter was not a little crestfallen. There 
was, of course, but one reply possible ; but it should never 
be said that he gave credit to a Cuthite by name. 

“ He that showed mercy on him,” he answered re- 
luctantly, avoiding the obnoxious word “ Samaritan.” 

Jesus did not press his advantage, and put the scribe — 
apparently not one of the unscrupulous order — to open 
confusion by pointing out how utterly irreconcilable his 
reply was with Rabbinical explanations of the famous 
passage. 

“ Go, and do thou likewise,” he said with a smile at once 
frank and kindly, and passed on. 

The seventy having returned to their Master, there was 
no longer need that he should remain in Jerusalem, where 
there was constant danger of a collison with the rulers, and 
consequent precipitation of a crisis for which he was not yet 
ready. He retired, therefore, both for safety and for the 
prosecution of that part of his public work which still re- 
mained to be done, to that region beyond Jordan from which 
the seventy had just come. But he went without haste ; his 
departure was not a flight. 

On the way he stopped for a brief visit at the village of 
Bethany, just over the Mount of Olives. There he was 
welcomed to the house of a certain young Pharisee, Laazar 
by name, who with his two sisters had been won to the 
Master’s cause. The family, though not wealthy, was 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


373 


possessed of some property, and was considered by its 
neighbours far from poor. The sisters were older than 
their brother, and, while alike warm and true of heart, were 
quite diverse in temper. Martha, the elder, was active and 
energetic, brusque of speech and engrossed with affairs ; 
Miriam, on the other hand, was retiring, gentle-mannered, 
and of a reflective cast of mind. These differences soon 
showed themselves in the bearing of the two toward their 
guest. When the first kind offices of Eastern hospitality 
had been performed, Miriam seized her opportunity to sit 
at the feet of the Lord she loved, and listen to words of 
which she considered that she had heard far too few. The 
habits of the Oriental household, except among the wealthy, 
are simple, and its needs few ; but Martha had determined 
that, in honour of their great guest, their ordinary habits 
should be changed ; consequently it was very displeasing to 
her that her sister should sit idle, as it seemed to her, at 
Jesus’ feet. In the warmth of her hospitality, she wished 
to do for her Lord the best in her power ; and the best that 
she could think of was to spread before him a bountiful 
repast. She bustled repeatedly into, and out of, the room 
in which her guests were seated, glancing indignantly at 
her sister on each occasion. Finally she could contain her 
displeasure no longer. 

“ Lord,” she said abruptly, coming up in front of Jesus, 
‘‘ dost thou not care that my sister did leave me to serve 
alone? bid her therefore that she help me.” 

“ Martha, Martha,” said Jesus gently, looking from her 
worried, aggrieved face down to the countenance of her 
sister, upon which the quick flush showed that the rebuke 
had given pain, “ thou art anxious and troubled about 
many things ; but one thing is needful, for Miriam hath 
chosen the good part, which shall not be taken away from 
her.” 

Martha’s eyes following those of Jesus to her sister’s 


374 


EMMANUEL ; 


face, she was at once ashamed of her sharp words ; more- 
over, the gentle gravity of Jesus’ rebuke went to her heart ; 
and, turning away, she left the room abruptly. Miriam 
rose hastily and followed her. 

The next day a furious storm of wind and rain raged 
over the hills of Judaea, and effectually guarded the privacy 
of Jesus. With one exception there was no interruption to 
his free, familiar intercourse with his hosts. 

That exception was brought about by Laazar, who had 
persuaded his friend and neighbour Simon to come to Jesus 
for healing ; for Simon was a leper. The latter also was a 
member of the Pharisaic party, and the possessor of con- 
siderable property, because of which two important con- 
siderations he had not yet been driven from the village, 
though already his hair was white and his disease far 
advanced. Yielding more to the urging of Laazar than to 
the promptings of any considerable faith of his own, he 
came in with no little reluctance to ask healing of one to 
whom he knew the leaders of his party were opposed. The 
grave dignity with which Jesus received him contrasted 
strongly with the cordiality of the Master’s bearing when 
alone with his friends. The young Pharisee kneeled 
respectfully, and preferred his request. 

“ Go, show thyself to the priest,” was the quiet, but evi- 
dently final, reply. 

Simon looked up in surprise ; then raised himself some- 
what haughtily, and silently left the room. 

“Thou wilt go, Simon; thou wilt go surely,” was 
Laazar’s exclamation on overtaking his friend in another 
apartment. 

“ Go ! ” returned the leprous man, “ wherefore should 1 
go to the priest ? Is it to show him this snowy hair ? or to 
have him look upon the scales of this leprous hand ? Is it 
to hear the Levites cry, ‘ Depart, depart, thou art of the 
dead ’ ? ” 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


376 


“ Simon, Simon, get thee out on thy way,” persisted 
Laazar ; ‘ ‘ heed not the storm ; doubt not the power of 
Jesus ; but haste thee to the priest. Remember Naaman 
the Syrian.” 

At this last reference Simon grew thoughtful, and was 
finally persuaded to don his heavy outer cloak, and set out 
on his way across the top of Olivet to Jerusalem and the 
Temple. A dozen times, however, before the summit was 
gained, as the rain beat relentlessly upon him, he was 
ready to turn back. What utter folly was this, he mut- 
tered, for one whom God had cursed to heighten his 
malady by braving such a storm ! And why had he thus 
bidden farewell to good sense? All because of an idle 
hope excited in him by the command of an unaccredited, 
much criticised Galilaean ! Who was this stranger, that his 
mere word should have such power? Was he another 
Elisha, and Simon of Bethany his Naaman? Ah! Naaman, 
truly ! The Syrian, before his cure, had asked very similar 
questions to these. 

And so his gloomy, sceptical musings went their round, 
again and again, the ever-recurring thought of the captain 
of the Syrian host meanwhile leading him up the ascent in 
spite of wind and rain and doubt. 

When at length the summit was reached, and there re- 
mained only the easy descent of the mountain to bring him 
under the very walls of the Temple, he stood still for a 
moment to recover his breath, and to look down on the 
Holy City, dimly visible through a gray curtain of driving 
rain. Why, at that instant, did Simon the leper suddenly 
lift his hands up before his face, and bare his arms to the 
elbow? Why did he lift face and hands heavenward, 
regardless of the pouring rain, and then bound down the 
mountain side with all the joyful abandon of a boy? It 
was because Simon was a leper no longer. That faith 
which, wealc and fitful as it was, had yet sufficed to carry 


376 


EMMANUEL ; 


him to the top of the mountain, was rewarded with the 
coveted blessing. It would not be folly in him to present 
himself to the priest. 

At evening when, homeward bound, he again arrived at 
the top of the mountain, the sun broke for a minute or 
two through the clouds in the west, and lighted up the ashy 
desert expanse which sloped down rapidly, furrowed with 
innumerable ravines, to the low-lying Salt Sea, — a desert 
in which the village of Bethany, embosomed in its little 
fruitful valley, was the principal oasis. Beyond the sea, 
the golden rays gave a passing lustre to the higher peaks 
of the Moab range, and tinged with gold and crimson the 
edges of sombre cloud-masses piled high in the east. 
Simon smiled in deep gladness ; a light had broken through 
the clouds of his life, also, and the former desolate outlook 
was now aglow with promise. Bethany, his own Bethany, 
its white houses and many groves nestling so prettily in the 
little valley, might be a happy place for him yet. There 
was Miriam, the gentle, fair-faced sister of Laazar ; and no 
fearful curse now barred his suit. There, too, was the 
wonderful man to whom he owed all the new hope and 
promise of his life ; surely this must be the Messiah. What 
mattered it that the Rabbis did not believe in him ? They 
had not been healed of leprosy. The time would yet come 
when their scepticism would be overcome, as his had been. 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


CT7 


CHAPTER XXV. 
the gospel beyond JORDAN.^ 

If I find him, if I follow, 

What his guerdon here? — 

Many a sorrow, many a labour, 

Many a tear. 

If I still hold closely to him, 

What hath he at last? — 

Sorrow vanquished, labour ended, 

Jordan passed. 

Stephen of St. Sabas. 

T WO reasons in particular led Jesus to Peraea : first, it 
had received comparatively little attention from him 
heretofore ; second, he could still work there safely 
in public. The authority of the Sanhedrin did not extend 
to the district beyond the river ; while, from the consider- 
able proportion of heathen there, its influence was not dan- 
gerously great. From the latter reason, also, there was 
less danger than in Galilee of popular enthusiasm in his 
behalf running to the length of insurrection. 

In coming to Peraea, however, he avoided in the main 
those Greek commercial cities which, though in the domin- 
ions of Herod Antipas, were independent of his authority, 
and were banded together for mutual protection — subject 
only to the general control of Rome — under the name of 
the Decapolis. The great river of commerce flowing along 
the edge of the Arabian desert, from the Red Sea up to 
Antioch, the metropolis of the East, had fructified, as it 
were, the rugged, desolate hills and narrow valleys of 
eastern Peraeac and caused them to display in places what 
now seems a strange luxuriance of splendid civilization. 


J Luke xi. 1-13, 37-41; xii. 1-53; xiii. 1-17, 22-33; xiv. 1-xvi. 31. 


378 


EMMANUEL ; 


At Philadelphia, the ancient Rabbath Ammon, at Gerasa, 
probabl}^ once Ramoth Gilead, at Capitolias, and at other 
places northward and southward, cities were then growing 
into an opulence and splendour, the very remains of which, 
though in ruin and utter desolation, now fill the traveller 
with wonder and admiration. But it was to none of these, 
with their idol-polluted precincts, that Jesus betook him- 
self. Their day of grace was to come, and soon ; but it was 
to come after his personal ministry was over. 

It was to the humbler towns and villages nearer the Jor- 
dan, in the forest region of Mount Gilead, or lying in lowly 
seclusion in deep and fertile valleys, in which the “ lost 
sheep of the house of Israel ” still formed the greater part 
of the population, that Israel’s Redeemer now took his 
way. Leaving colonnaded Gadara on its lofty hill-top, the 
profound gorge of the Hieromax at its feet, some distance 
to the north, and passing by the very walls of hill-embos- 
omed Pella, — afterwards noted as the secure retreat of 
the infant Christian church of Palestine during days of sav- 
age war and fearful desolation, — the Master went first to 
the more northern portion of Mount Gilead, and then so 
ordered his movements that his general course should be 
south, and early winter find him opposite Jericho, able 
easily to revisit the Holy City at the festival of the Dedi- 
cation. 

Jesus’ journeys in this region were a repetition in large 
degree of those in Galilee the year before. Everywhere 
he was greeted with joy by the common people ; every- 
where multitudes thronged his steps, and sick folk bowed 
at his feet, or were placed in his way. 

In consequence of this continuous ovation, the Master 
again found it necessary, in order to secure opportunity for 
communion with God, at night or at early dawn, to steal 
away from his hosts and the multitudes into the solitudes 
of the forest or the desert mountain side. On one of 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


379 


these occasions the disciples, at a respectful distance, were 
witnesses of his devotions. 

“ Lord,” said one of the newer adherents, when Jesus 
rejoined them, “ teach us to pray, even as John also 
taught his disciples.” 

“ When ye pray,” was the reply, “ say. Father, hal- 
lowed be Thy name. Thy kingdom come. Give us day 
by day our daily bread. And forgive us our sins ; for we 
ourselves also forgive every one that is indebted to us. 
And bring us not into temptation. 

“ Which of jmu,” he went on, “ shall have a friend, and 
shall go unto him at midnight, and say to him. Friend, 
lend me three loaves ; for a friend of mine is come to me 
from a journey, and I have nothing to set before him ; 
and he from within shall answer and say. Trouble me 
not ; the door is now shut, and my children are with me in 
bed; I cannot rise and give thee? I say unto you. 
Though he will not rise and give him, because he is his 
friend, yet because of his importunity he will arise and 
give him as many as he needeth. And I say unto you. 
Ask, and it shall be given you ; seek, and ye shall find ; 
knock, and it shall be opened unto you. For every one 
that asketh receiveth ; and he that seeketh findeth ; and to 
him that knocketh it shall be opened. And of which of 
jmu that is a father shall his son ask a loaf, and he give 
him a stone ? or a fish, and he for a fish give him a ser- 
pent? Or if he shall ask an egg, will he give him a 
scorpion? If ye, then, being evil, know how to give good 
gifts unto your children, how much more shall your heav- 
enly Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask Him?” 

As a matter of course, many days had not passed before 
the Sanhedrin, or, more properly, the Pharisaic portion of 
it, despatched their emissaries to join the throngs about 
“ the Nazarene.” After one of the Lord’s public addresses, 
a certain Pharisee, partly out of desire to keep in favour 


380 


EMMANUEL ; 


with the people, partly at the instigation of the strangers 
from Jerusalem, invited Jesus to eat with him. That 
enmity and not hospitality prompted the invitation was 
not hidden from the Master ; yet he accepted it notwith- 
standing, determining that the opportunity for cavil desired 
by the Pharisees should be given, that so the issue between 
them and himself might be manifest here as elsewhere. 

He came to the meal — the minor one at noon — with- 
out formality, reclining at the place assigned, and pur- 
posely omitted the usual ceremonial hand-washing. Forth- 
with, in the hearing of the people crowding in at the open 
door, and with an air of self-righteousness, the host ex- 
pressed his astonishment that Jesus should be so lacking in 
i^iety, and so ill-instructed in the traditions of the elders. 

“ Now do ye Pharisees cleanse the outside of the cup 
and of the platter,” Jesus replied with severity, rising to a 
sitting posture and looking around at the self-righteous 
company; “ but your inward part is full of extortion and 
wickedness. Ye foolish ones, did not he that made the 
outside make the inside also? Ilowbeit,” with more gen- 
tleness, wdiile he calmly wrapped his tallith about him and 
turned away, “ give for alms those things which are 
within ; and behold all things are clean unto you.” 

On gaining the street, he led the multitude, now grown 
to great proportions, to the market-place, and proceeded to 
warn and to encourage his followers in regard to his recent 
influential critics, lie said : — 

“ Beware ye of the leaven of the Pharisees, wdiich is hy- 
pocrisy. But there is nothing covered up, that shall not 
be revealed ; and hid, that shall not be known. Where- 
fore, whatsoever ye have said in the darkness shall be heard 
in the light ; and whatsoever ye have spoken in the ear in 
the inner chambers shall be proclaimed upon the house-tops. 
And I say unto you, my friends. Be not afraid of them that 
kill the body, and after that have no more that they can 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


381 


do. But I will warn you whom ye shall fear : Fear Him, 
who, after He hath killed, hath power to cast into hell ; 
yea, I say unto you. Fear Him. Are not five sparrows 
sold for two pence? And not one of them is forgotten in 
>the sight of God. But the very hairs of your head are all 
numbered. Fear not : ye are of more value than many spar- 
rows. And I say unto you, Every one who shall confess 
me before men, him shall the Son of man also confess before 
the angels of God ; but he that deiiieth me in the presence 
of men, shall be denied in the presence of the angels of 
God.” He then encouraged them with the added assur- 
ance that the Holy Spirit would be their helper and teacher 
in every hour of trial. 

Here Jesus was interrupted. One man in the crowd had 
been deaf to the lofty teaching, because preoccupied with 
his worldly affairs and his fancied wrongs. He had a 
claim, not good in law, perhaps, but in his eyes none the 
less righteous. He must see if the Redeemer of Israel 
would not do him justice. He could contain himself no 
longer. “ Master,” he broke out in a high, impatient 
voice, “ bid my brother divide the inheritance with me.” 

“ Man,” said Jesus gravely, “ who made me a judge or 
a divider over you? ” 

Then, resuming his teaching, he took this man and his 
untimely request as a text. “ Take heed,” he said, “ and 
keep yourselves from all covetousness : for a man’s life con- 
sisteth not in the abundance of the things which he pos- 
sesseth. The ground of a certain rich man brought forth 
plentifully : and he reasoned within himself, saying. What 
shall I do, because I have not where to bestow my fruits? 
And he said. This will I do : I will pull down my barns and 
build greater ; and there will I bestow all my corn and my 
goodL And I will say to my soul. Soul, thou hast much 
goods laid up for many years ; take thine ease, eat, drink, 
and be merry. But God said u^to him. Thou foolish one, 


882 


EMMANUEL ; 


this night is thy soul required of thee ; and the things 
which thou hast prepared, whose shall they be ? So is he 
that layeth up treasure for himself, and is not rich toward 
God.” 

Then, after enjoining his followers, as before in Galilee, 
to make food and raiment secondary objects in life, and 
to devote themselves to seeking the kingdom of God, he 
added : — 

‘ ‘ Fear not, little flock ; for it is your Father’s good 
pleasure to give you the kingdom. Sell that ye have, and 
give alms ; and make for yourselves purses which wax not 
old, a treasure in the heavens that faileth not, where no 
thief draweth near, neither moth destroj^eth. For where 
your treasure is, there will your heart be also. Let your 
loins be girded about, and your lamps burning ; and be ye 
yourselves like unto men looking for their lord, when he 
shall return from the marriage feast ; that, when he cometh 
and knocketh, they may straightway open unto him.” 

This lesson of alertness and faithfulness wms further 
illustrated by an allusion to the watchfulness of a house- 
holder on the lookout for the coming of a robber. 

“Be ye also ready,” were the Lord’s concluding words, 

— words afterward cherished with utmost joy and hope, 

— “ for in an hour that ye think not, the Son of man 
cometh.” 

“ Lord,” said Peter, in doubt as to his Master’s mean- 
ing, and at loss just what question to ask to ascertain it, 
“ speakest thou this parable unto us, or even unto all? ” 

It had been spoken for the elect, for those with ears to 
hear and hearts to receive the command and the promise ; 
but its meaning could not be made perfectly clear till 
another Passover had come and gone. 

Therefore Jesus replied, emphasizing, rather than ex- 
plaining: “Who, then, is the faithful and wise steward 
whom his lord shall set over his household, and give them 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


383 


their portion of food in due season? Blessed is that ser- 
vant, whom his lord, when he cometh, shall find so doing. 
Of a truth I say unto you, that he will set him over all that 
he hath. . . . And that servant who knew his lord’s 

will, and made not ready, nor did according to his will, 
shall be beaten with many stripes ; but he that knew not, 
and did things worthy of stripes, shall be beaten with few 
stripes.” 

Jesus paused ; the thought of the differences of character 
which would be revealed on the day of his return recalled 
to his mind the ordeal before himself before this differenc- 
ing of men into the spiritual and the worldly could really 
begin. 

“ I came to cast fire upon the earth,” he continued in a 
lower tone, an accent of pain present in it like a minor 
strain in a melody ; “ and how I would that it were already 
kindled ! But I have a baptism to be baptized with ; and 
how am I straitened till it be accomplished I Think ye that 
I am come to give peace in the earth? I tell you. Nay ; but 
rather division ; for there shall be from henceforth five in 
one house divided, three against two, and two against three. 
They shall be divided, father against son, and son against 
father ; mother against daughter, and daughter against 
her mother ; mother-in-law against her daughter-in-law, and 
daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law.” 

Jesus would have closed his teaching at this point ; but 
the people detained him. There were some present desirous 
of learning the opinion of the noted Galiliean Rabbi as to 
the peculiarly terrible fate of certain Galilaeans who had 
been slain by Pilate’s soldiers in a minor insurrection at the 
very foot of the great altar, so that their blood had flowed 
away in the conduits mingled with that of their sacrifices. 

“ Think ye that these Galilieans,” said the Master 
gravely, ‘‘were sinners above all the Galilseans, because 
they have suffered these things? I tell you. Nay; but, 


384 


EMMANUEL ; 


except ye repent, ye shall all in like manner perish. Or 
those eighteen, upon whom the tower in Siloam fell, and 
killed them, think ye that they were offenders above all the 
men that dwell in Jerusalem? I tell you. Nay ; but, except 
ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish. 

“ A certain man had a fig-tree planted in his vineyard ; 
and he came seeking fruit thereon, and found none. And 
he said unto the vine-dresser. Behold, these three years I 
come seeking fruit on this fig-tree, and find none ; cut it 
down ; why doth it also cumber the ground ? And he 
answering saith unto him. Lord, let it alone this year 
also, till I shall dig about it, and dung it ; and if it bear 
fruit thenceforth, well ; but if not, thou shalt cut it down.” 

No man asked the interpretation of this parable ; its 
meaning was as clear as it was sternly monitory. 

A Sabbath incident occurring shortly afterward at once 
greatly increased Jesus’ general popularity and, in the eyes 
of the people, widened the gap between him and the Phari- 
sees of the district. He was seated in one of the syna- 
gogues — to which he was welcomed with honour in Penea, 
though long since excluded from their bimas in Jiidma and 
Galilee — awaiting the beginning of the morning service, 
when his attention was attracted to a poor infirm woman, 
bent and deformed more from disease than from age, having 
for eighteen years been unable to stand erect, who was pain- 
fully making her way along the passageway by the wall 
toward the woman’s platform. 

“ Woman,” he called out compassionately. 

The concentred gaze of the congregation told her that 
she was addressed. 

“ Woman, thou art loosed from thine infirmity.” 

The poor creature was only dazed by such words from 
a stranger, and by the publicity thus suddenly thrust upon 
her, and looked at Jesus in speechless bewilderment. The 
Master therefore went to her, and lifted her up till she 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


385 


stood erect, once more in full health and vigour. Then 
indeed the light broke in upon her mind, and she raised 
palms and face heavenward, and gave thanks to God. 
The hush of astonishment — except for the thanksgiving 
of the grateful woman — filling the synagogue was sud- 
denly brought to an end by the voice of the ruler, a 
Pharisee, raised in loud and adverse criticism. 

“ There are six days in which men ought to work,” he 
said frowningly : “in them therefore come and be healed, 
and not on the day of the Sabbath.” 

“Ye hypocrites,” returned Jesus to him and the other 
elders of the platform, “ doth not each one of you on the 
Sabbath loose his ox or his ass from the stall, and lead him 
away to watering? And ought not this woman, being a 
daughter of Abraham, whom Satan had bound, lo, these 
eighteen years, to have been loosed from this bond on the 
day of the Sabbath ? ” 

The Pharisees in the chief seats were much chagrined 
at this unexpected retort, the more so that the common 
people made no secret of their approval of both deed and 
vindication. 


Thus varied and, as it were, accented by deeds of mercy 
and bits of lofty teaching, the progress of Jesus through 
the noble oak forests, over the rugged hills and through 
the deep valleys of the mountains of Gilead, continued till 
over a month had passed away, and crossing the river 
Jabbok he entered the southern part of the district and 
drew near the Jericho ford of the Jordan. His fame had 
now spread far and wide through Perma as never before, 
even again reaching the ears and troubling the conscience 
of the Tetrarch himself ; while to the mortification of the 
opposing Pharisees, the people continued to flock to him 
in even increasing numbers. 

In the latter part of his southward journey, after he had 


386 


EMMANUEL ; 


crossed the Jabbok as it wound down its wild, deep gorge, 
and had climbed the long ascent south of it, he turned ab- 
ruptly from the main road, escaping for the moment from 
the people, and led his disciples westward a short distance 
to the summit of the highest peak below the Sea of Galilee. 
It was that known in the neighbourhood as the Mount of 
Joshua, from a tradition that the great Hebrew conqueror 
had once made it his headquarters. On the crest Jesus 
paused to rest, the whole party at the same time occupying 
themselves with viewing the noble prospect commanded by 
the mountain. From the snowy cone of Hermon to the 
hills of the desert south of the Sea of Salt, the whole land 
of Israel lay exposed to view, including the strange de- 
pression of the Jordan and the Salt Sea, over four thou- 
sand feet below them. There, before the troubled gaze of 
the Master, was the whole arena of his life, and the very 
Mount of Olives just beyond which he was to find his 
death. 

Thoma watched the same scene with a question gathering 
urgency in his mind. Why was it that in all these popu- 
lous regions traversed b}^ his Lord so extensively, — why 
was it that, notwithstanding the popular enthusiasm in 
Jesus’ behalf, the number of true followers still remained 
inconsiderable ? Thoma had forgotten the parable of the 
sower. Somewhat timidly and hesitatingly his question 
found voice. 

“ Lord, are there few that are saved? ” 

Jesus avoided a direct reply, but said, in the hearing of 
the people who had now come up, “ Strive to enter in by 
the narrow door ; for many, I say unto you, shall seek to 
enter in, and shall not be able. When once the Master 
of the house is risen up, and hath shut the door, and ye 
begin to stand without, and to knock at the door, saying. 
Lord, open to us ; and he shall answer and say to you, I 
know you not whence ye are ; then shall ye begin to say, 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


387 


We did eat and drink in thy presence, and thou didst teach 
in our streets ; and he shall say, I tell you, I know not 
whence ye are ; depart from me all ye workers of iniquity. 
There shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth, when ye 
shall see Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, and all the 
prophets, in the kingdom of God, and yourselves cast forth 
without. And they shall come from the east and west,” — 
glancing away toward the western horizon, where the blue 
line of the Great Sea gleamed through gaps in the hills, — 
“ and from the north and south, and shall sit down in the 
kingdom of God. And behold, there are last who shall be 
first, and there are first who shall be last.” 

“ Get thee out, and go hence : for Herod would fain kill 
thee,” broke in certain Pharisees in the crowd, determined 
to check a teaching which was exceedingly distasteful to 
them, and, if possible, get rid of the Teacher. 

But Jesus was as little to be terrified by the name of the 
tyrant as by ecclesiastical plots and arrogance. He knew 
well, moreover, that the sin-stained and craven soul of the 
Tetrarch had suffered too much from his murder of John 
the Baptist to permit him readily to lay violent hands on 
another prophet. At the same time he was not ignorant 
that Herod, his first impression that Jesus was John risen 
from the dead having passed away, regarded him with 
suspicion. 

“ Go and say to that fox,” was his undisturbed reply, 
“ Behold, I cast out demons and perform cures to-day and 
to-morrow, and the third day I end my course. Howbeit, 
I must go on my way to-day, and to-morrow, and the day 
following ; for it cannot be that a prophet perish out of 
Jerusalem.” 

A little to the south of the Mount of Joshua was a city 
of some size, — now known as Es-Salt, — partl37^ heathen in 
population, and shut in closely by steep hills, the slopes of 
which were thickly covered with orchards and terraced 


388 


EMMANUEL ; 


vineyards. The place was favoured with an abundance of 
good water, which, after supplying the town and its envi- 
rons, fructified prolific gardens and grain fields in the 
lower valley. Here the Lord spent several days, and here 
the Sanhedrist emissaries were called upon to endure what 
they esteemed another humiliation. One of their own party, 
the ruler of one of the synagogues in the city, in genuine 
hospitality invited Jesus and a number of others to dine 
with him on the Sabbath. Naturally the important visitors 
from the Holy City were among the guests ; while quite as 
naturally, with the social freedom characteristic of the 
East, the common people crowded in at the door, to witness 
a feast at which men of such note, and such known mutual 
antagonism, wore partakers ; among them was a man dis- 
eased with dropsy. On seeing the diseased man, the 
scribes watched their opponent to see if he would dare heal 
the sufferer on that day. They were not kept in suspense. 

“ Is it lawful to heal on the Sabbath day, or not?’’ said 
Jesus to them abruptly. 

They did not answer : they would not saj^ yes ; it was 
not politic in the presence of the people to say no. Rais- 
ing himself to a sitting posture, the Master called the 
afflicted man to him ; and laying hands upon him freed him 
from his disease, and sent him away. 

“Which of you,” he added in half-sorrowful protest, 
resuming bis former reclining attitude, “ shall have an ass 
or an ox fallen into a well, and will not straightway draw 
him out on the Sabbath day ? ” 

Again there was no answer. The scribes aside, the 
miracle made a profound impression on the guests, notwith- 
standing their Rabbinical ideas of the Sabbath. 

Seeing that all eyes were bent on himself, Jesus broke 
the rather painful silence by speaking on a new topic. 

“ AVhen thou art bidden of any man to a marriage 
feast,” he said, observing how, after the common custom, 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


389 


the guests sought the places of honour on the couches, — 
those nearest to the host and the head of the table, — 
‘‘ recline not in the chief place ; lest haply a more honour- 
able man than thou be bidden of him, and he that bade 
thee and him shall come and say to thee, Give this man 
place ; and then thou shalt begin with shame to take the 
lowest place. But when thou art bidden, go and sit down 
in the lowest place ; that, when he that hath bidden thee 
cometh, he may say to thee, Friend, go up higher: then 
shalt thou have glory in the presence of all that sit at 
meat with thee. For every one that exalteth himself shall 
be humbled ; and he that humbleth himself shall be 
exalted. 

“ When thou makest a dinner or a supper,” turning to 
his host, “ call not thy friends, nor thy brethren, nor thy 
kinsmen, nor rich neighbours ; lest haply they also bid thee 
again, and a recompense be made thee. But when thou 
makest a feast, bid the poor, the maimed, the lame, the 
blind : and thou shalt be blessed ; because they have not 
wherewith to recompense thee : for thou shalt be recom- 
pensed in the resurrection of the just.” 

“ Blessed is he that shall eat bread in the kingdom of 
God,” remarked one of the other guests at this reference 
to the resurrection, — a favourite theme with the Pharisees. 

After a short silence Jesus spoke again. 

“ The kingdom of God,” he said, looking up toward the 
last speaker, “ is likened unto a certain king, who made a 
marriage feast for his son, and sent forth his servants to 
call them that were bidden to the marriage feast : and they 
all with one consent began to make excuse. The first said 
unto him, I have bought a field, and I must needs go and 
see it ; I pray thee have me excused. And another said, 
I have married a wife, and therefore I cannot come. And 
the servant came and told his lord these things. Again 
he sent forth other servants, saying. Tell them that were 


390 


EMMANUEL ; 


bidden, Behold, I have made ready my dinner : my oxen 
and my fallings are killed, and all things are ready : come 
to the marriage feast. But they made light of it, and 
went their ways, one to his farm, another to his merchan- 
dise ; and the rest laid hold on his servants, and entreated 
them shamefully, and killed them. But the king was 
wroth ; and he sent his armies and destroyed those murder- 
ers, and burned their city. Then saith he to his servants. 
The wedding is ready, but they that were bidden were not 
worthy. Go ye, therefore, unto the partings of the high- 
ways, and as many as ye shall find, bid to the marriage 
feast. And those servants went out into the highways, 
and gathered together all as many as they found, both bad 
and good : and the wedding was filled with guests. But 
when the king came in to behold the guests, he saw there a 
man w'ho had not on a wedding garment ; and he said unto 
him. Friend, how earnest thou in hither not having a wed- 
ding garment? And he was speechless. Then the king 
said to the servants. Bind him hand and foot, and cast 
him into the outer darkness ; there shall be weeping and 
gnashing of teeth. For many are called, but few are 
chosen.” 

Fortunately for the popularity of Jesus, especially among 
the more well-to-do, this parable was but imperfectly 
understood when spoken. As it was, if one could judge 
from the enthusiasm manifested on the day of his depart- 
ure, interest in and regard for Jesus was almost universal. 
The people streamed out, and follow'ed him down the 
valley in great throngs ; some won by the power and wis- 
dom manifest in him ; more led on by the belief that the 
kingdom was about to be restored to Israel, and a new and 
glorious era at hand. That no one might be deluded by 
false hopes, Jesus turned to the people, before an hour had 
gone by, and stated with utmost explicitness the conditions 
of discipleshin. 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


391 


“ If any man cometh after me,” he said firmly, though 
with mingled tenderness and pathos, “ and hateth not his 
own father, and mother, and wife, and children, and 
brethren, and sisters, yea, and his own life, also, he can- 
not be my disciple. For which of you, desiring to build a 
tower, doth not first sit down and count the cost, whether 
he have wherewith to complete it ? Lest, haply, when he 
hath laid a foundation, and is not able to finish, all that 
behold begin to mock him, saying. This man began to 
build, and was not able to finish. . . , So, therefore, 

whosoever he be of you that renounceth not all that he 
hath, he cannot be my disciple. He that findeth his life 
shall lose it ; and he that loseth his life for my sake shall 
find it.” 

The effect of these words was quickly seen. Men ex- 
changed glances and a few remarks, shook their heads, and 
then in large companies went back. It was not that they 
were offended, as an Occidental hearer would naturally 
have been, at the seeming requirement of hatred of parents. 
They were accustomed to the Hebrew figure of speech, 
according to which a contrast is heightened, or a compari- 
son made more striking, by a seeming prohibition of that 
which is intended to be disparaged only relatively. But 
the general tenor of the address, and especially the words 
“ Whosoever he be of you that renounceth not all that he 
hath, he cannot be my disciple,” served as a decided check 
to their false enthusiasm, which, like much that the world 
has seen since, was but a bubble needing a touch only to 
explode it. 

Two classes of followers, however, did not return. For 
reasons of their own, the scribes from Jerusalem, and cer- 
tain Pharisees, continued in the Master’s company. So, 
likewise, from better motives, did those — among them a 
few publicans and other outcasts — whose hearts had really 
been reached by the truth, and drawn to the Lord. Natu- 


892 


EMMANUEL ; 


rally, the two streams did not mingle. The Pharisaic com- 
pany held themselves aloof even from the common people, 
the am ha-arets ; from the publicans they separated them- 
selves as scrupulously as from a leper or a dead body. 
The fact that Jesus erected no such self-righteous barrier 
afforded them a theme for frequent criticisms by the way ; 
but when, on stopping at noon for food and rest, the Mas- 
ter welcomed some of the despised and fallen class to his 
own circle, and ate with them, the Pharisaic cavils became 
outspoken indeed. 

“This man receiveth sinners and eateth with them!” 
they exclaimed, sanctimoniously, gestures of mock dismay 
accompanying their ejaculations. 

Seeing that some of his sincere followers, to whom his 
justification of a like course in Galilee was unknown, were 
troubled by his lack of separatism, Jesus called the people 
to him. 

“ What man of you,” he said, “ having an hundred 
sheep, and having lost one of them, doth not leave the 
ninety and nine in the wilderness, and go after that which 
is lost, until he find it? And when he hath found it, he 
layeth it on his shoulders, rejoicing. And when he cometh 
home, he calleth together his friends and his neighbours, 
saying unto them. Rejoice with me, for I have found my 
sheep which was lost. I say unto you, that even so there 
shall be joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth, more 
than over ninety and nine righteous persons, that need no 
repentance. . . . 

“ A certain man,” he continued, his voice becomi?'g 
tender and thrilling, “ had two sons ; and the younger of 
them said to his father. Father give me the portion of thy 
substance that falleth to me. And he divided unto them 
his living. And not many days after the younger son 
gathered all together, and took his journey into a far 
country ; and there he wasted his substance with riotous 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


893 


living. And when he had spent all, there arose a mighty 
famine in that country ; and he began to be in want. And 
he went and joined himself to one of the citizens of that 
country ; and he sent him into his fields to feed swine. 
And he would fain have filled his belly with the husks 
that the swine did eat ; and no man gave unto him. But 
wdien he came to himself he said, How many hired ser- 
vants of my father’s have bread enough and to spare, and 
I perish here with hunger. I will arise and go to my 
father, and will say unto him, Father, I have sinned 
against heaven and in thy sight : I am no more worthy to 
be called thy son ; make me as one of thy hired servants. 
And he arose, and came to his father. But while he was yet 
afar olf, his father saw him, and was moved w'ith compas- 
sion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him. And 
the son said unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven, 
and in thy sight ; I am no more worthy to be called thy 
son. But the father said lo his servants. Bring forth 
quickly the best robe, and put it on him ; and put a ring 
on his hand, and shoes on his feet ; and bring the fatted 
calf, and kill it, and let us cat, and make merry ; for this 
my son was dead, and is alive again ; he was lost, and 
is found. And they began to be merry. Now the elder 
son w'as in the field : and as he came and drew nigh to the 
house, he heard music and dancing. And he called to him 
one of the servants and inquired what these things might be. 
And he said unto him. Thy brother is come ; and thy 
father hath killed the fatted calf because he hath received 
him safe and sound. But he was angry, and would not go 
in ; and his father came out, and entreated him. But he 
answered and said to his father, Lo, these many years 
do I serve thee, and I never trangressed a commandment 
of thine ; and yet thou never gavest me a kid, that I might 
make merry with my friends ; but when this thy son came, 
who hath devoured thy living with harlots, thou killedst 


394 


EMMANUEL ; 


for him the fatted calf. And he said unto him, Son, thou 
art ever with me, and all that I have is thine. But it was 
meet to make merry and be glad : for this thy brother was 
dead and is alive again ; and was lost, and is found.” 

Not immediately was this parable understood, even by 
Thoma and his fellows ; some time had to elapse before, 
in the beautiful picture of their Master’s painting, they 
discerned the majestic and winning outlines of their 
heavenly Father’s face. 

The vintage was over, even on the mountains ; with the 
exception of certain figs, which yet hung in heavy, ripe 
clusters upon the boughs, the various fruits of summer and 
autumn had been gathered ; the trees had laid aside their 
leaves for their short winter’s rest, and the brown plains 
and hillsides, under the touch of the fall rains, were green 
pastures once more ; while already, early one morning, 
Thoma had seen the hills of Judaea, across the river white- 
crested with snow, — when Jesus and his followers issued 
from one of the mountain gorges, and crossed the plains 
of Moab opposite Jericho. On these plains the thorny 
Shittah or Acacia trees, from which formerly the district 
had been named, were then largely supplanted by spring- 
ing wheat and barley. 

The twelve here called Jesus’ attention to the promising 
appearance of the crops and the general show of prosperity 
t in the warm, sheltered district — irrigated by streams from 
the hills — compared with the more rugged and unfruitful 
mountain heights just left behind. The Lord replied by 
pointing out to them in return the true use of earthly 
riches, and the dangers incident to their possession. He 
said, the people as well as the disciples listening, — 

“ There was a certain rich man who had a steward ; and 
the same was accused unto him that he was wasting his 
goods. And he called him and said unto him, What is 


THE STORY OF THE 3IESSIAH. 


395 


this that I hear of thee? Eender the account of thy 
stewardship ; for thou canst be no longer steward. And 
the steward said within himself, What shall I do, seeing 
that my lord taketh away the stewardship from me? I 
have not strength to dig ; to beg I am ashamed. I am re- 
solved what to do, that, when I am put out of the steward- 
ship, they may receive me into their houses. And calling 
to him each one of his Lord’s debtors, he said to the first, 
Ilow much owest thou my lord? And he said, A hundred 
measures of oil. And he said unto him. Take thy bond 
and sit down quickly and write fifty. Then said he to 
another, And how much owest thou? And he said, A hun- 
dred measures of wheat. He saith unto him. Take thy bond 
and write fourscore. And his lord commended the un- 
righteous steward because he had done wisely : for the sons 
of this world are for their own generation wiser than the 
sons of light. And I say unto you. Make to yourselves 
friends by means of the mammon of unrighteousness ; that, 
when it shall fail, they may receive you into the eternal 
tabernacles. . . . 

“ No servant can serve two masters: for either he will 
hate the one, and love the other ; or else he will hold to 
one, and despise the other. Ye cannot serve God and 
mammon.” 

At this point the Pharisees present, whose love of money 
was only equalled by their desire of popular applause, exas- 
perated by teaching which they at once despised and 
feared, broke in, openly scoffing both at Jesus and his 
doctrine of the subordination of wealth to higher ends. 

“ Ye are they,” said the Lord gravely and sadly, “ that 
justify yourselves in the sight of men ; but God knoweth 
your hearts : for that which is exalted among men is an 
abomination in the sight of God. 

“Now there was a certain rich man, and he was clothed 
in purple and fine linen, faring sumptuously every day : and 


396 


EMMANUEL ; 


a certain beggar named Laazar was laid at his gate, full of 
sores, and desiring to be fed with the crumbs that fell from 
the rich man’s table ; yea, even the dogs came and licked 
his sores. And it came to pass that the beggar died, and 
that he was carried away by the angels into Abraham’s 
bosom : and the rich man also died, and was buried. 
And in Hades he lifted up his eyes, being in torments, and 
seeth Abraham afar off, and Laazar in his bosom. And 
he cried and said. Father Abraham have mercy on me, and 
send Laazar that he may dip the tip of his finger in water, 
and cool my tongue ; for I am in anguish in this flame. 
But Abraham said. Son, remember that thou in thy life- 
time receivedst thy good things, and Laazar in like manner 
evil things : but now here he is comforted, and thou art 
in anguish. And beside all this, between us and you 
there is a great gulf fixed, that they who would pass 
from hence to you may not be able, and that none may 
cross over from thence to us. And he said, I pray thee, 
therefore, father, that thou wouldest send him to my 
father’s house ; for I have five brethren ; that he may 
testify unto them, lest they also come into this place of 
torment. But Abraham saith, They have Moses and the 
prophets ; let them hear them. And he said, Nay, Father 
Abraham ; but if one go to them from the dead, they will 
repent. And he said unto him. If they hear not Moses 
and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded, if one 
rise from the dead.” 


TUE STOllY OF THE MESSIAH, 


397 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

GOD MANIFEST IN THE FLESH. ^ 

O Love! O Life! our faith and sight 
Thy presence maketh one; 

As through transfigured clouds of white 
We trace the noonday sun : 

So, to our mortal eyes subdued, 

Flesh veiled, but not concealed. 

We know in thee the Fatherhood 
And heart of God revealed. 

Whittier. 

A n hundred and sixty years before that memorable 
winter night on which the boy Thoma lay on the 
hillside, and gazed with astonished eyes at the 
heavenly messengers in the shining air, the slopes of 
INIount Moriah had echoed with loud lamentations, fol- 
lowed a little later by corresponding rejoicings. 

After hurling back three times the hosts of the Syrian 
Greeks, the heroic Judah the Maccabee, justly called “ the 
hammer,” had secured for the ravaged land a season of 
rest. But the little army of patriots returning from 
Bethsur in the south, where they had fought and routed 
six times their own number, found Jerusalem, and particu- 
larly the Temple, in a sad plight indeed. The Holy House 
was desolate ; weeds grew in the courts, and wild vines 
clambered over the broken arcades and chambers ; the 
great rampart walls enclosing the inner courts, which 
Solomon had built, and Nehemiah in a measure restored, 
were half overthrown ; the gates were burned, and the 
massive stones in many places cracked and blackened with 
fire ; and, worst of all, the great altar, from which count- 
less sacrifices to Jahveh had ascended in fire and smoke, 


1 John x. 22-xi. 54. 


398 


EMMANUEL ; 


was defiled, — a woman having struck it with her shoe in 
contempt, and the heathen having desecrated it bj offering 
upon it the abominated swine’s flesh. 

However, after the first passionate outburst of grief on 
beholding the fallen state of their Sanctuary, the liberated 
people quickly set themselves to repairing the injury done. 
The walls were rebuilt, the chambers roofed over again, 
the gates rehung. The inner courts were cleansed and 
restored by selected priests of orthodox faith, while the 
desecrated altar was pulled down, and a new one, formed 
of whole stones dug without the use of iron from the soil 
of the Kedrin valley, erected in its place. The stones of 
the old altar, once consecrated to God, were, in lack of all 
direction as to their proper disposition, carefully placed in 
the gate-house at the north-west corner of the altar court, 
to await the coming of some prophet able to decide what 
should be done with them. 

Then, rejoicing in the possession once more of the 
Temple of the Lord of hosts, and exulting in the new 
national hope before them, the victorious people celebrated 
a feast of dedication, at once religious and patriotic, at 
which, for the space of a week, they devoted themselves to 
festivities, — hanging crowns and shields of gold on the 
eastern walls of the Temple, at night illuminating the 
sacred courts and the whole city, and, with peaches and 
palm fronds in their hands, joining in joyous ceremonies 
not unlike those of the feast of Tabernacles. This fes- 
tival, thus instituted a century and a half before, had come 
down in regular annual observance to the time of Jesus, 
the stones of the old altar meanwhile lying in the gate- 
house awaiting the coming of a prophet of the Lord. 

And now the prophet had come ; again, as at other 
feasts, Jesus of Nazareth walked the courts of his Father’s 
house ; and that as fearlessly, with as searching and yet 
tender a teaching, and as ready a sympathy, as though he 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


399 


knew not that the custodians of that house were plotting 
his destruction. The long-expected prophet had come ; but 
though priests and Rabbis, or their agents, followed him 
almost constantly, no man laid before him the question of 
the right disposition of the old altar stones, — a question 
which for generations had baffled the wisdom of Israel’s 
teachers. 

Perhaps it was from a perception of this anomaly ; per- 
haps it was only from seeing how few the Master’s true fol- 
lowers continued to be, and how general and increasingly 
bitter was the enmity of the Sanhedrists ; but one day dur- 
ing the festival Thoma found himself repeating with mourn- 
ful, almost bitter, emphasis the words of the prophet, 
“ Who hath believed our report? and to whom hath the 
arm of the Lord been revealed ? ” Instantly he checked 
himself ; there were words in that prophecy that he could 
not for a moment think of applying to Jesus. And yet — 
did they not apply? “Despised and rejected of men; a 
man of sorrows and acquainted with grief?” Ah! but 
those after- words, “ He was cut off out of the land of the 
living”, — those could have no reference to Jesus of Naz- 
areth, the Deliverer of Israel. Nevertheless, despite the 
earnestness born of great love and hope with which he thus 
assured himself, Thoma was ill at ease ; for with the words 
of the prophet there recun-ed to his mind the solemn warn- 
ing of his Lord on returning to Galilee : “ Let these words 
sink into your ears : the Son of man shall be delivered up 
into the hands of men ; and they shall kill him.” He had 
thought the words figurative at the time ; but now, joined 
with the utterance of the prophet — alas! what did they 
mean? From that day the thoughts of the disciple from 
Ephi-aim became more sombre, while his heart was often 
Tveighed down with a vague foreboding which he found 
hard to shake off. 

The experiences of the last day of the feast were not of a 


400 


EMMANUEL ; 


character to allay his apprehensions. The Rabbis had kept 
Jesus under constant surveillance from the hour of his arrival 
in the city ; but he gave them no pretext for open arrest, 
and no opportunity for secret violence. Finally it became 
plain to the Sanhedrists that they must force their danger- 
ous opponent to furnish them the desired occasion. The 
closing day of the festival was stormy ; hour by hour the 
rain came down in steady streams, so that the worshippers 
in the Temple were forced to find shelter either under the 
deep archways of the gates, or in the spacious cloisters. 
It so happened that Jesus was walking in the eastern clois- 
ter called Solomon’s Porch, when suddenly a considerable 
body of priests and Rabbis pushed through the crowd, and 
surrounded him with little ceremony. Of necessity Jesus 
halted ; whereupon one of the chief priests, in a voice, the 
arrogance of which belied the show' of honest inquiry in- 
tended to be borne by his words, stated their errand. 

“How long dost thou hold us in suspense?’^ he de- 
manded. “If thou art the Christ, tell us plainly.” 

To give this question the categorical answer called for 
was impossible ; for he was not the Christ of their dreams, 
the second David w’^ho should do for Israel in perfect meas- 
ure what Judah the Maccabee had done but partially. Yet 
he could not answ'er in the negative ; for the true Christ, 
the Messiah of prophecy, he w'as. 

“ I told you,” he said calmly, “ and ye believe not: the 
works that I do in my Father’s name, these bear witness of 
me. But ye believe not because ye are not of my sheep,” 
referring to a previous metaphor which he knew they had 
not forgotten. “ My sheep hear my voice, and I know 
them, and they follow me : and I give unto them eternal 
life ; and they shall never perish, and no one shall snatch 
them out of my hand. My Father, w'ho haih given them 
unto me, is greater than all ; and no one is able to snatch 
them out of the Father’s hand.” 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


401 


Then, gravely and quietly, that he might not seem to be 
equiv^ocating, ‘‘ I and the Father are one.” 

This last sentence proved the spark needed to fire the 
train in the minds of the hierarchical leaders. Instantly 
they were in commotion, running hither and thither in 
search of fragments of rock with which to stone him to 
death ; for here, in their opinion, was cause enough ; here 
was assumption intolerable, a claim nothing short of blas- 
phemous. Yet each wrathful ruler displayed a singular 
unreadiness to be the first to cast a stone at the alleged 
blasphemer. It was holiness and iniquity in confiict again. 

“ Many good works have I showed you from the Father,” 
said Jesus sadly, as they hesitated; “for which of these 
works do ye stone me ? ” 

“ For a good work we stone thee not, but for blasphemy ; 
and because that thou, being a man, makest thyself God.” 

Jesus met them for the moment with a sort of argument 
in which they themselves delighted. “Is it not written in 
your law, ‘ I said. Ye are gods ’? If he called them gods 
unto whom the word of God came (and the Scripture can- 
not be broken), say ye of him whom the Father sanctified 
and sent into the world. Thou blasphemest ; because I said, 
I am the Son of God? If I do not the works of my 
Father, believe me not. But if I do them, though ye 
believe not me, believe the works ; that ye may know and 
understand that the Father is in me, and I in the Father.” 

At this the anger of his opponents flame_d up anew ; but 
again no one cared to be the first to lay liands on him, in 
consequence of which all stood glaring, but motionless, 
while the Lord passed on, and was lost in the throng. 

Some of the disciples, also, were greatly astonished at 
the words, “I and the Father are one.” Thoma turned, 
and looked at his Lord in amazement, almost dismay ; but 
his lofty serenity and air of assured knowledge forbade 
the idea that he had spoken hastily, or with any lack of 


402 


EMMANUEL ; 


perception of the meaning of liis words. The son of Sal- 
mon would not imitate the Pharisees, and deny and oppose 
simply because he could not understand ; but yet — what 
did the Lord mean by the amazing declaration, “ I and the 
Father are one ” ? 

That night Jesus spent with his friends at Bethany, 
intending the day following to retire across the river 
again, that he might be beyond the power of his foes for 
the present. When Thoma learned this, and found that 
Jesus expected to remain quietly at the ford where John 
had formerly preached and baptized, his mind was made 
up about a matter that had troubled him for some time. 
On coming up to the feast of Tabernacles he had confi- 
dently expected very soon to rejoin and see much of his 
family at Ephraim ; but the weeks and months had gone 
by, during none of which was he much over a day’s jour- 
ney from his home, and yet he had found no opportunity 
for a visit to his loved ones. Now, therefore, on the 
morning of the departure from Bethany, he came to 
Jesus, and bowed reverently before him. 

“ Master,” he said, I pray thee, send me hence ; and 
bid me visit my wife and my children again.” 

Jesus regarded his faithful disciple affectionately, and, 
as it seemed to Thoma afterwards, wistfully, delaying his 
reply as though waiting for something. 

“ Go, Thoma, to the wife of thy youth,” he said at 
length, kindly. “ Behold, I wait for thee beyond the 
river.” 

Thoma arose, and, saluting his Lord, took his departure. 

On his way over the hills north of the Holy City toward 
Beeroth and Bethel, the thoughts of the disciple naturally 
went back to the Master whom he had just left. What a 
rare charm there was about that man ! Never had he seen 
one who could compare with him. And yet, the most of 
the rulers and the Pharisees, and many of the people. 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


403 


thought otherwise. Ah ! but they did not know him truly, 
or else their hearts were evil and they did not wish to be- 
lieve ill a teacher of righteousness. For Thoma there was 
now no face on earth at once so noble, so commanding, and 
so sweet as that of Jesus of Nazareth. The faint bloom 
upon it at his baptism, telling of youth and health, was 
gone indeed, and the face was much thinner than it had 
been three years before ; but to Thoma, who had learned 
to read it during those years with a growing recognition of 
the divinely beautiful soul which it veiled, it seemed now 
fairer than ever, and incomparably dearer. It was as 
though by labour and struggle and suffering the veil had 
been worn thinner, and the soul in consequence showed 
through more clearly and brightly. 

What sympathy with suffering, what compassion for the 
bereaved, what sorrow for the erring, he had seen in those 
beloved features ! what love for friends and followers ! 
what pleasure in their happiness, and grief in their trouble ! 
Then what lofty purity was in that countenance ! how holy 
the joy irradiating it when in prayer, or when teaching the 
great truths of the Gospel ! And yet, with all its sweet- 
ness, its tenderness, its spiritual beauty, there was a 
strength in that great face which none failed to recognize, 
and before which no man dared to presume. His enemies 
hated, often feared, him ; but after once meeting him they 
never in their hearts despised him. In how many ways 
had Thoma seen that strength shown. In perfect courage 
that failed not before the mightiest foe, or in greatest 
danger ; in sternness rebuking iniquity in high places, 
and unmasking the false lives of hypocritical teachers ; 
in calm endurance, grand patience, divine meekness, 
which bore trial and wrong without complaint, and re- 
turned good for evil, blessing for cursing,Tove for enmity. 
Would he not always remember the splendid fearlessness 
with which the Master had faced and discomfited the mul- 


404 


EMMANUEL ; 


titutle of foes where their power was greatest? and the 
majesty with which the same Jesus, on the Sea of Galilee, 
had quelled the raging waters ? And oh ! would he ever 
forget the tender compassion written on the Lord’s face, 
the light at once loving and glad shining from his eyes, as 
he lifted Elisabeth from the ground, healed of her malady? 
or as he laid his hand on Asahel’s leprous head, and 
cleansed him of his foul disease? 

Suddenly the son of Salmon stopped short in the road ; 
and, after gazing before him in a dazed way for a moment, 
covered his face with his hands. Asahel ! yea, he was well, 
indeed ; but Tamar ! He had not forgotten the darkened 
eyes of his gentle wife ; why had he not besought the Lord 
for her? why had he not brought the Master to Ephraim 
with him? Jesus would have come, — yea, he knew he 
would have come. Surely, surely it was the thought of the 
patient blind woman in his disciple’s home which had made 
the Lord hesitate as he sent him away, and which had 
brought that wistful look to his face. Would he ever 
forgive himself for his slowness of thought, his feebleness 
of faith? Why had he not been more ready to see that 
Jesus would gladly go out of his way to bless the home 
of one of his chosen followers? And now, who could tell 
when another such opportunity would come ? One thing 
was certain ; the wrath and enmity of the Sanhedrists were 
such that it would be madness for the Messiah to visit 
Jerusalem again without a large body of loyal supporters. 
With the Passover caravan in the spring, or, better still, 
with a mighty army of all the good and true men in the 
nation in his train, the Lord might safely, perhaps trium- 
phantly, go up again to the Holy City ; but for the present 
he must remain in retirement, far from that Jerusalem in 
which he was destined to reign, — if, indeed, he was to 
reign ; if the words of the ancient prophecy and of the 
Master himself were not to be taken literally . 


THE STOIIY OF THE MESSIAH. 


405 


“Alas !” he exclaimed aloud, “ who hath believed our 
report ? and to whom hath the arm of the Lord been re- 
vealed ? ” 

After two happy weeks at his home, during which he told 
over and over the details of a story, of which neither he 
nor his listeners ever tired, he rejoined his Master. He 
found him with his followers on the farther side of the 
river, living in booths and grottos, which the semi-tropical 
character of the Jordan depression rendered a sufTicient 
shelter even in winter ; but he did not find him in the re- 
tirement he had hoped for. Jesus’ retreat had already been 
discovered by the people. During the weeks spent in the 
river valley, they came to him from all the surrounding 
countiy, as they had formerly come to the Baptist, listening 
attentively to his teaching, and watching eagerly the cures 
worked by him in the sick folk of the vicinity. Nor were 
they merely curious beholders ; many were deeply impressed, 
and went away believing in him as the hoped-for Messiah. 

“ John, indeed, did no sign,” they declared; “but all 
things whatsoever John spake of this man were true.” 

As the weeks went by, it became clear that the increasing 
throngs gathering at the ford would necessitate another 
change of abode on the Lord’s part. Already the Pharisees 
had begun to come with the people, and it was no secret to 
the Lord and his immediate followers that the stream of 
Pharisaic enmity was then running in hidden channels, 
and, therefore, all the more dangerous. But when Jesus 
finally took his departure, it was from other reasons than 
those of prudence. 

On a lovely day in the end of January, — a harbinger of 
spring, — when the low-lying banks of the river were dotted 
with multitudes of wild-flowers, the few almond-trees of 
the deep valley covered with pink bloom, and the grain- 
fields of the peasants a brilliant, grateful green, — on this 


406 


EMMANUEL ; 


day a messenger, bringing mournful tidings, arrived at the 
ford. Laazar of Bethany, he said, was threatened with 
death. The sisters, Martha and Miriam, had despatched 
him with the message, “ Lord, behold, he whom thou 
lovest is sick.” 

“ This sickness is not unto death,” was Jesus’ comment, 
much to the relief of the twelve, to whom also Laazar was 
a friend, “ but for the glory of God, that the Son of God 
may be glorified thereby.” 

Thoma was not surprised, consequently, when for two 
days Jesus showed no disposition to go to his sick friend ; 
Bethany was much too near Jerusalem to be a safe place for 
the Master. But the proposition made by the latter on the 
third day astonished all the disciples alike. 

“ Let us go into Judfea again,” said Jesus quietly. 

“ Rabbi,” expostulated Peter, “ the Jews were but now 
seeking to stone thee ; and goest thou thither again ?” 

“ Are there not twelve hours in the day?” was the re- 
sponse. “ If a man walk in the day, he stumbleth not, be- 
cause he seeth the light of this world. But if a man walk 
in the night, he stumbleth, because the light is not in him.” 
Then, after a pause, “ Our friend Laazar is fallen asleep ; 
but I go that I may wake him out of sleep.” 

“ Lord,” returned the anxious disciple, very unwilling 
that Jesus should take a risk which, from his own account, 
seemed needless, “if he has fallen asleep, he will recover.” 

“ Laazar is dead,” was the now explicit reply. “ And 
I am glad for your sakes that I was not there, to the intent 
that ye may believe ; nevertheless, let us go unto him.” 

“ Let us also go, that we may die with him,” said Thoma 
to his fellows sadly, but firmly, foreboding now possessing 
his mind completely. 

They all went, one of them, however, by no means in 
the spirit of the son of Salmon. 

The next day, in the afternoon, the party drew near to 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


407 


Bethany. Stopping at the outskirt of the village, Jesus 
sent Nathanael, one of the most retiring and least known of 
the disciples, to the house of his friends to apprise them, 
and them only, of his arrival. To come up to Bethany, 
taking no counsel of fear, did not at all involve a disregard 
of the dictates of prudence ; and, in deference to this, the 
Lord intended that his work in the towm should be done 
before his enemies learned of his return. Martha was 
alone when she received the message, and immediately 
hastened out to the place where Jesus was waiting. 

“ Lord,” she exclaimed tearfully, “ if thou hadst been 
here, my brother had not died. And even now I know 
that whatsoever thou shalt ask of God, God will give 
thee.” 

Thus she spoke in words of vague hope begotten of her 
deep reverence for Jesus. 

“ Thy brother sliall rise again,” said the Lord. 

‘ ‘ I know that he shall rise again in the resurrection at 
the last day.” 

“ I am the resurrection and the life,” was the tender and 
solemn reply: “ he that believeth on me, though he die, 
yet shall he live ; and whosoever liveth and believeth on me 
shall never die. Believest thou this? ” 

“ Yea, Lord,” w'as the answer, though the weeping 
woman did not half comprehend the words to which she 
assented : “I have believed that thou art the Christ, the 
Son of God, even he that cometh into the world.” 

Comforted, she hardly knew why, Martha returned home 
quickly to find her sister. Miriam was not alone ; friends 
from the Holy City, Pharisees, — Laazar having been of 
that party, — were with her, endeavouring to comfort her 
in her bereavement. 

“ The Master is here, and calleth thee,” Martha whis- 
pered to her sister ; whereupon the latter arose, and 
without a w'ord hurried away with her. 


408 


EMMANUEL ; 


The Pharisee friends, supposing that she was going to 
the tomb to weep, followed, and were witnesses conse- 
quently of what ensued. 

“ Lord,” cried Miriam brokenly, throwing herself at 
Jesus’ feet, “ if thou hadst been here, my brother had not 
died.” 

She could say no more ; her sobs checked her utterance. 
Jesus looked down at her, and around at the weeping 
friends, and sorrow mastered his own heart also. That 
subtle power of sympathy which enabled him so perfectly 
to understand and identify himself with those about him 
now moved his soul ; while beyond the present, the 
knowledge of that innumerable host of bereaved hearts for 
whom there was to be no immediate deliverance, — the 
great unvoiced grief of mankind through all generations, — 
was present in his mind beneath all other thoughts and 
feelings, and weighed heavily upon his spirit. 

“ Where have ye laid him? ” he said, in a voice choked 
with pain. 

“ Lord, come and see,” Miriam answered, through her 
tears. 

As he went, his emotion broke its bounds, and Jesus 
wept. Never before had Thoma seen the tears start from 
his Master’s eyes ; and only once afterward was it to hap- 
pen ; but now they flowed down his face without check. 
The friends of the sisters, though by no means friends of 
Jesus, were touched by his grief. 

“ Behold how he loved him,” said some. Others, 
“ Could not this man who opened the eyes of him that was 
blind have caused that this man also should not die ? ” 

On arriving at the tomb, it was found to be a cave, the 
entrance of which was blocked by a great boulder. 

“ Take ye away the stone,” said Jesus to the twelve, 
his voice still tremulous with strong feeling. 

“ Lord,” interposed Martha, her first undefined hope 


THE STOIIY OF THE MESSIAH. 


409 


fading in the presence of the sepulchre, “ by this time he 
stinketh : for he hath been dead four days.” 

“ Said I not unto thee,” was the response, “ that, if 
thou believedst, thou shouldest see the glory of God ? ” 

The stone was rolled away forthwith, regardless of the 
strong disapprobation written on the faces of the visitors 
from Jerusalem. 

“ Father,” said Jesus, his face turned heavenward, “ I 
thank Thee that Thou heardest me. And I knew that Thou 
hearest me always : but because of the multitude which 
standeth around, I said it, that they may believe that Thou 
didst send me.” Then, in loud command toward the open 
mouth of the sepulchre, “ Laazar, come forth.” 

The bystanders started, and every eye was fixed in 
fearful expectancy on the dark interior of the cave ; then 
the awestruck spectators drew back step by step. Beyond 
question there was the figure of a man in the cavern, — a 
man painfully making his way toward the entrance, his 
movements impeded by the grave-clothes that bound him, 
his eyes blinded by the napkin wrapped around his head. 

“ Loose him,” said Jesus quietly, “ and let him go.” 

The disciples obeyed, though dumb with astonishment 
at this supreme act of power ; and a moment later Laazar, 
released from his ghastly bonds, stepped forward in the 
natural strength and bloom of his young manhood, and 
was clasped in the arms of his weeping and speechless 
sisters. A glad light shone through the tears still in the 
Master’s eyes, and a smile brightened his face, as he 
looked on this joyful reunion and received the worship and 
broken thanksgivings of these friends. It was noticeable 
to Thoma, and quite comprehensible, that, with all their 
gratitude and devotion and increased love, there was now 
a change in the bearing of Laazar and his sisters toward 
Jesus, their former familiarity having become strongly 
tempered with awe. 


410 


EMMANUEL ; 


The effect of this miracle upon the visitors from Jerusa- 
lem varied. The more sincere could doubt and challenge 
no longer ; this certainly was he that should come. To 
the more worldly and selfish, however, the miracle was 
only another and most astonishing instance of demo^iic 
agency in one who was already a dangerous foe to estab- 
lished authority. These returned to Jerusalem without 
delay, and reported the whole affair to the Rabbis. 

That evening the Sanhedrin was convened at the house 
of the High Priest to consider the news from Bethany. 
The venerable Nasi, Simon son of Hillel, being on the 
edge of the grave, Hanan son of Seth, father-in-law of 
the High Priest, presided. One of the younger members 
opened the discussion. 

“ What do we? ” he began, “ for this man doeth many 
signs. If we let him thus alone, all men will believe on 
him, and the Romans will come and take away both our 
place and our nation.” 

Others followed in a similar vein. Before the discussion 
was over, Hakana took occasion to point out the danger of 
a tumult and of interference by Pilate, should open vio- 
lence be resorted to ; and Nakdimon found courage and 
voice to protest against hasty or illegal measures. The 
two last mentioned, widely diverse in temper as they were, 
were overwhelmed by Caiphah the High Priest in one 
summary judgment, the deep truth of which he little 
suspected. 

“Ye know nothing at all,” he broke in with his cus- 
tomary arrogance, “ nor do ye take account that it is 
expedient for you that one man should die for the people, 
and that the whole nation perish not.” 

Heretofore the darker plots against Jesus had been con- 
fined to two narrow circles mutually antagonistic : the one 
consisting of certain leading Rabbis and wealthy Pharisaic 
elders ; the other of the Sadducaean chief priests, — who for 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


411 


some time had looked upon Jesus with increasing dis- 
favour, not because of his teaching, to which for the most 
part they were indifferent, but because of his large popular 
following. From the day of Laazar’s resurrection, how- 
ever, so far as Jesus was concerned, partisan differences 
were ignored ; and, dropping the forms of judicial investi- 
gation and conservative and legitimate opposition, the two 
parties openly debated in the Sanhedrin the best means of 
destroying “ the Nazarene.” 

Meanwhile, waiting not for the fruition of the Sanhedrist 
plots, the Master informed his disciples that he would de- 
part from Bethany with the morning light. Hope forth- 
with returned to Thoma’s breast, — hope for his Master, 
and for his own. This opportunity, at any rate, should 
not be neglected. 

“ Lord,” he said, “ come, I pray thee, to Ephraim, and 
abide with thy servant. The town is small, and lieth 
apart ; it will be long ere the Sanhedrin discover thee 
there. Moreover, I beseech thee, lay thy hands on Tamar 
my wife ; for she is blind.” 

“ Thoma, Thoma,” said Jesus, “ wherefore wert thou so 
slow of heart? Wherefore didst thou not believe in the 
love of thy Lord? Yea, thou sayest we will go with thee 
to Ephraim.” 


Priest and Pharisee were not the only dwellers in Jeru- 
salem to hear of the mighty deed done beyond the mount ; 
by nightfall the news had run through the entire city, and 
men were discussing it in the shops, on the streets, and in 
the humblest dwellings. Two there were in particular to 
whom the tidings brought a thrill of delight and exultation, — 
Miriam, the Lord’s mother, and his sister Tamar. Miriam’s 
yearning heart and strengthened faith could not longer be 
restrained by the scepticism and prudent counsels of James 
and her other sons. At the few interviews which she had 


412 


EMMANUEL ; 


had with her first-born during the two years preceding, — 
few, not because of any lack of affectionate readiness on 
the part of Jesus or his mother, but solely from the hostile 
attitude of the younger sons, — she had seen with growing 
clearness, and with mingled awe and delight, the supreme 
dignity of her angel-heralded Son. Finally, perplexity and 
doubt had disappeared ; and, in her heart, to a tender love 
and a great hope was joined a faith deep and abiding. 
And now she was in Jerusalem in search of that first-born 
and best-beloved Son, whom at length she recognized as her 
Lord. On her arrival with her younger daughter, who only 
of her family shared her faith and hope, she could learn but 
little of Jesus’ whereabouts. He had disappeared, she was 
told, at the close of the Dedication festival; and no one 
knew certainly whither he had betaken himself, though it 
was rumoured that he was in tiie Jordan valley on Herod’s 
side of the river. 

The wonderful news from Bethany reached the city about 
sundown ; but Miriam waited not for the morrow. By dint 
of utmost haste she and her daughter succeeded in passing 
the gates before the hour for closing ; and in company 
■with a trusty disciple made her way after nightfall to 
Bethany and the house of Martha. The meeting of the 
rejoicing mother and her wondrous Son was the closing 
event in that day of unspeakable gladness. From that 
evening Miriam clung to Jesus, and was separated from 
him but little down to the close of his ministry. 

By keeping on the edge of the wilderness, and traversing 
a multitude of deep and tortuous defiles, Jesus and his 
party succeeded in making their way northward without 
recognition, and in reaching on the evening of the second 
day, the high, isolated village. of Ephraim, looking down 
on the profound gorges and desolate slopes of the Jordan 
depression, and the long expanse of the Dead Sea, as 
though fertility and civilization had posted it there on 
guard against their implacable foe, the desert. 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


413 


In Thoma’s liumble dwelling on the wilderness outskirt 
of the town, little Rachel was again the one to bring her 
mother word of the approach of strangers. A company of 
men and w^omen were coining, she said, and her uncle Asa- 
hel had run and kneeled before one of the foremost of 
them. Tamar and her mother were consequently not with- 
out surmise as to the new-comers. On nearing the house, 
Thoma was joined by his son Salmon, whom he led to the 
Master, and whom the latter received with a benediction, 
the lad meantime looking up shyly at the noble-faced 
stranger of whom he had heard so much. 

Elisabeth met them at the door with joy, making haste 
to do reverence to her Deliverer ; while Tamar, confident 
that her husband was among the new-comers, yet knowing 
not which way to turn, stood still, with shining face and 
hands timidly extended, awaiting his approach. But the 
Master’s hand laid on his arm detained Thoma. Jesus 
gently raised the aged Elisabeth to her feet, rewarding her 
with a smile and a brief benediction ; then, going forward 
to Tamar and taking her hands in one of his, laid the fin- 
gers of the other upon her sightless eyes. 

“ A faithful daughter and wife and mother,” he said, 
with rare tenderness, “ hast thou been, O daughter of 
Jesse ! Look now upon thy Lord.” 

He removed his fingers, the light entered the still beauti- 
ful eyes, and Tamar saw again ; and saw what untold 
thousands since have longed in vain to see, — the face of 
the Redeemer of men. The gracious charm of that counte- 
nance held her gaze, as it had held that of many another 
true soul, so that for the moment she hardly realized the 
deliverance which had come to her. Then she would have 
fallen at the Master’s feet, and covered them with her 
kisses, had he not caught ‘her, and turning about, led her 
to her husband. 

“ Thoma,” he said, “ behold thy wife.” 


414 


EMMANUEL ; 


Before the happy disciple could speak his thanksgivings, 
the Lord moved on, and laying his hand on the head of 
little Rachel, spoke words of blessing like those pro- 
nounced over her brother, the child looking up to him 
without fear and with ready trust. 

Those were quiet, happy weeks intervening between the 
Lord’s arrival at Ephraim and the Passover season. For 
some time the presence of Jesus in th4 town was almost 
unknown outside its walls ; so that the Lord had leisure 
for undisturbed intercourse with his disciples. 

After the lapse of a few weeks, certain devoted women, 
who had accompanied him on some of his Galihean tours 
rejoined him, having ascertained his place of retreat from 
the friends at Bethany. Prominent among these were Sa- 
lome, mother of the sons of Zebedee, and her frequent 
companion, Miriam of Magdala. The latter, during her 
short stay at Ephraim, became greatly attached to Tamar ; 
partly, no doubt, from the fact that they owed deliver- 
ance from great affliction to a common Lord, partly from 
the natural sympathy and mutual attraction of two noble 
women of similar age. Certain it was that Tamar’s hum- 
ble abode was often favoured with the bright presence of 
Miriam. It may be added, that to Thoma and his wife it 
seemed hardly less certain that the dark eyes of their bro- 
ther followed the graceful movements of their guest with 
more than ordinary interest. 

A year later, in the midst of labours, aims, and hopes at 
that time undreamed of, the elder son of Salmon also pos- 
sessed a home of his own, to which, after every season 
of Gospel ministry, he was welcomed by the fair orphan 
of Magdala. 


TUB STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


415 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

THE LAST JOURNEY TO JERUSALEM.^ 

The Son of God goes forth to war, 

A kingly crown to gain; 

His blood-red banner streams afar; 

Who follows in his train? — 

Who best can drink his cup of woe, 

Triumphant over pain, 

Who patient bears his cross below. 

He follows in his train. 

Hebee. 

T he storms of February and March swept persistently 
and relentlessly over the ancient territory of the 
tribe of Benjamin, washing the hillsides, drowning 
the valleys, and breaking the silences of the wilderness 
gorges with the roar of short-lived torrents ; yet, as always, 
their rage prevented not the steady advance of spring, 
w'hose footprints could be traced on every side in hew 
forms of beauty. 

During the two months of his stay at Ephraim, Jesus 
delighted, ’whenever the weather permitted, to retire to the 
eastern brow of the hill, where, not only the now bright 
wilderness heights, but the deep Jordan valley, northward 
and southward, and the massive mountain walls of Gilead 
and Moab were in sight ; and where for hours he could 
converse familiarly wdth his followers without interruption. 

Naturally, however, there was a limit to these days of 
quiet ; the Lord was too widely known to make very ex- 
tended concealment on his part in the habitations of men a 
possibility. Toward the close of his stay the people from 
the country round about began to flock to him ; and with 
them, as heretofore, came the Pharisees. Fortunately the 

1 Luke xvii. 20-xviii. 14; xviii. 35-xix. 28; Mutt. xix. 3-xx. 28; John xi. 55-xu. 11. 


416 


EMMANUEL ; 


few of the latter in this retired district did not yet know of 
the order of the Sanhedrin, that whoever discovered Jesus’ 
retreat should disclose it, that he might be apprehended. 
Nor were they, as yet, personally angered against him ; 
but, like tlieir fellows elsewhere, they were ill-prepared to 
receive his teachings, from their proud conviction that piety 
and learning had reached the highest possible development 
in their own class. 

“ Rabbi,” one of them inquired on a certain day, as 
Jesus taught his followers, “ when cometh the kingdom of 
God?” 

“The kingdom of God cometh not with observation; 
neither shall they say, Lo, here ! or. There ! for lo, the 
kingdom of God is within you.” Then, to the disciples 
again, “The days will come, when ye shall desire to see 
one of the days of the Son of man, and ye shall not see it. 
If, therefore, they shall say unto you. Behold, he is in the 
wilderness ; go not forth : Behold, he is in the inner cham- 
bers ; believe it not. For as the lightning cometh forth 
fro-m the east, and is seen even unto the west ; so shall be 
the coming of the Son or man.” To this teaching, and to 
that on the need of perpetual prayer, which immediately 
followed it, the Pharisees listened with considerable com- 
placency. Far otherwise was it when, in the effort to 
widen, if possible, the spiritual vision of these, his self- 
satisfied auditors, Jesus went on to describe acceptable 
prayer. 

“ Two men,” he said, “ went up into the Temple to 
pray ; the one a Pharisee, and the other a publican. The 
Pharisee stood and prayed thus with himself, God, I 
thank thee, that I am not as the rest of men, extortioners, 
unjust, adulterers, or even as this publican. I fast twice 
in the week ; I give tithes of all that I get. But the pub- 
lican, standing afar off, would not lift up so much as his 
eyes unto heaven, but smote his breast, saying, God, be 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


417 


merciful to me a sinner. I say unto you, This man went 
down to his house justified rather than the other : for every 
one that exalteth himself shall be humbled ; but he that 
humbleth himself shall be exalted.” 

The satisfaction of the Pharisees disappeared instantly. 
The Lord closing his teaching at this point, they went 
away commenting angrily on what they had heard. A 
Pharisee and a publican, indeed ! Who was this Nazarene 
that he should presume to utter such names in the same 
breath? How dared he exalt a sinful tax-gatherer above 
the holy men of Israel? They had heard that this man 
w^as a heretic ; evidently they had heard the truth. 

Quite different was the temper of some of those who 
gathered about the great Teacher the day following. The 
village folk had gained a strong affection for Jesus during 
his stay among them, and learning that the day of his de- 
parture w^as near, they now came bringing their young 
children to him for his blessing. The twelve thinking such 
requests would annoy the Master and interfere with morq 
important matters, rebuked the parents and made tlieni 
stand back. 

“ Suffer the little children to come unto me,” exclaimed 
Jesus, overhearing the words of rebuff; “forbid them, 
not, for of such is the kingdom of God. Verily I say untq 
you, AVhosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a 
little child, he shall in no wise enter therein.” 

Then, to the delight of the parents, he took the little 
ones into his arms one by one, and laying his hand on 
each cluster of black, glossy locks, spoke a blessing. 

It was the Lord’s last day at Ephraim. The Passover 
was at hand ; in sheltered spots the barley was already 
yellow, while every evening showed the moon nearer to 
the full. Any day the first caravan of pilgrims to the feast, 
with which Jesus intended to go up to the Jerusalem, jour- 
neying southward on the other side of the river , might 
pass down from Mount Gilead to the Jericho ford. 


418 


EMMANUEL ; 


Early the following morning, therefore, Jesus bade adieu 
to Elisabeth and Asahel, Tamar and her children, all of 
whom now looked upon him as both Lord and friend, and 
started with his followers, including his mother and sister, 
Salome, and Miriam of Magdala, down the narrow ravine 
below the town toward the Jordan. He was delayed, 
however, before the village was out of sight. A synagogue 
ruler of a neighbouring town came running to him with an 
errand which the inquirer had been unwilling to disclose in 
the presence of his fellow Pharisees. 

“ Good Master,” he exclaimed kneeling, “ what shall I 
do that I may inherit eternal life ? ” 

“ Why callest thou me good? ” was the reply ; “ none is 
good save one, even God : but if thou wouldest enter 
into life, keep the commandments.” 

“Which?” 

“ Thou shalt not kill, Thou shalt not commit adultery, 
Thou shalt not steal. Thou shalt not bear false witness. 
Honour thy father and thy mother : and thou shalt love thy 
neighbour as thyself.” 

“ Master,” cried the ruler joyfully, “ all these things 
have I observed from my youth.” 

The claim was evidently a sincere and not a boastful 
one ; there was in the man a genuine love of righteous- 
ness. Jesus, looking into his sincere and earnest heart, 
loved him ; but he saw in that heart one passion, the love 
of money, so strong that all else therein was dominated by 
it, and true life made impossible. 

“ One thing thou lackest,” continued the Lord kindly, 
but gravely; “go sell whatsoever thou hast, and give to 
the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven : and come, 
follow me.” 

Slowly the wealthy Pharisee rose to his feet, and with a 
countenance of great dejection went away. 

“ How hardly,” said Jesus with a sigh, as he watched 


THE STOBY OF THE MESSIAH. 


419 


the retreating figure, “ shall they that have riches enter 
into the kingdom of God.” 

The disciples were amazed. 

“Children, how hard it is for them that trust in riches 
to enter into the kingdom of God! It is easier for a 
camel to go through a needle’s eye, than for a rich man to 
enter into the kingdom of God.” 

“Who then can be saved?” exclaimed John in utter 
astonishment. Was the Lord to have no rich men in his 
kingdom? The disciples had supposed that the support 
of wealth would be essential to its successful establish- 
ment. 

“ With men,” returned Jesus, “ it is impossible, but not 
with God: for all things are possible with God.” 

- “ Lo,” said Peter, catching something of his Lord’s 

meaning, “ we have left all, and have followed thee.” 

“ Verily I say unto you. There is no man that hath left 
house, or wife, or brethren, or parents, or children, for 
the kingdom of God’s sake, who shall not receive manifold 
more in this time, and in the world to come eternal life. 
But many shall be last that are first ; and first that are 
last. 

Two hours later the company passed out from the *^shel- 
ter of the mountains, and entered upon the strip of plain 
above the Jordan, Jesus going on before buried in thought, 
apparently of a painful nature. Another hour went by, 
during w^hich the way still lay across the plain, already 
hot and parched under its half- torrid sun, and during 
which the silence and oppression of Jesus communicated 
themselves to his followers. Apprehensions for which 
they were at loss to account troubled the twelve. The 
distressed expression of the Master’s face, and the troubled 
look of his eyes, which met the inquiring gaze of his 
friends without the usual smile, smote Thoma to the 
heart, and quickened into new life the forebodings which 


420 


EMMANUEL ; 


he had once and again struggled to banish. Gradually, 
under the influence of a vague dread, the disciples fell 
behind, all fearing to ask Jesus the nature of the trouble 
weighing him down. 

At length they came to a great gully, or minor ravine, 
where a winter torrent rushing down from the mountains 
had cut its way through the surface of the plain, and exca- 
vated for itself a deep channel down to the bottom land 
of the Jordan. The little gorge presented a striking 
contrast to the desolate plain : on the latter low, tangled 
masses of thorn bushes alone broke the monotony of the 
gray-brown desert expanse ; the former was choked with 
trees, tall bushes, and other forms of vegetation, so that, 
but for the existence of a narrow path to which Thoma 
was able to lead the party, it would have been impassable 
to them. Its first and steepest pitch descended, they came 
to a pleasantly shaded spot where was a spring not yet 
dried up, at which a stop was made for food and rest. 
After a silent meal, and an hour of quiet and rest, Jesus 
took the twelve apart. 

“Behold,” he said in a disturbed voice, “we go up to 
Jerusalem, and all the things that are written through the 
prophets shall be accomplished unto the Son of man. For 
he shall be delivered unto the chief priests and scribes ; 
and they shall condemn him to death, and shall deliver 
him unto the Gentiles : and they shall mock him, and shall 
spit upon him, and shall scourge him, and shall kill him : 
and the third day he shall rise again.” 

It is diliicult for us now to see how these painfully 
explicit words could be misunderstood ; but misunderstood, 
or at least not understood, by those who heard them, they 
certainly were. Even Thoma, upon whom, from his own 
experience of wrong and misfortune, they made, probably, 
the deepest impression, — even he, during the remainder of 
the day’s journey, occupied himself with reasoning away 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAIL 


421 


their natural force. Had not the Lord that very morning 
promised them great rewards in the present time, and 
eternal life in the world to come ; had not the burden of 
his preaching for years been the near approach of the 
kingdom of God? Were he actually to die, these declara- 
tions would be proved false. Surely the Lord’s recent 
warning must belong to that part of his teaching in re- 
gard to which he had charged them to beware of extreme 
literalness. Doubtless this was a parable, — a parable as 
yet be3^ond the comprehension of the disciples. But no 
farther would Thoma’s argument carry him. The parables 
of Jesus were full of meaning ; and that the meaning of 
this was of a painful character, that the Lord was about 
to undergo some fearful ordeal, was a conviction from 
which he could not escape. Owing doubtless to the 
absorption in, and wrong understanding of, the body of 
the warning, the comforting assurance with which it closed 
passed unnoticed. 

Foreboding, however, gave place to hope, apprehension 
to confidence, with the return of another day. When, 
after passing the night apart, Jesus appeared in the morn- 
ing wdth serene countenance, and his w^onted smile and 
friendly w^ords, the gloom of the party vanished, as night 
at the coming of the sun. Fully persuaded now that the 
fearful prediction was a parable, if not the mere outcome 
of a despondent mood in the Master, the twelve were only 
too glad to banish it from their minds. 

The great event to all now was the coming of the Pass- 
over caravan. Surmising rightly that it would not arrive 
before afternoon, and desiring to avoid the heat of the sun 
on the open plain east of the river where the night had 
been spent, Jesus led his followers up into the valley from 
wdiich the caravan would issue. There the trees by the 
little mountain stream gave abundant shelter, and objects 
pleasant to the e^’^e were to be found in plenty. Wherever 


422 


EMMANUEL ; 


the width and slope of the valley permitted, wheat and 
barley had been planted, and were now about ready for 
the sickle ; the stream was fringed along much of its 
course with thickets of dark-green oleander, growing in 
the greatest luxuriance to a height of from ten to twenty 
feet, and almost covered with red and white bloom ; while 
in the shadier places, under the trees and on the southern 
acclivity of the valley, the ground was still gay with red 
anemones, scarlet ranunculuses, and other bright flowers. 
In the thickets along the stream could be heard the soft 
note of the turtle-dove, while jays, blackbirds, and 
thrushes fluttered and twittered among the branches ; and 
occasionally one of the party, roaming farther from the 
road than his companions, would startle a covey of red- 
legged partridges in their secluded retreat in the copse. 

While the morning hours slipped away quietly and 
pleasantly amidst these attractiv^e surroundings, an inci- 
dent occurred productive for the time of no slight ill-feel- 
ing among the disciples. Salome, elated by the prominence 
of her sons in the apostolic circle, had come to indulge 
very ambitious hopes for them. Sharing the general belief 
that Jesus had chosen to go up to Jerusalem with the cara- 
van from Galilee, rather than privately, because about to 
set up his kingdom and needing the support of the multi- 
tude, she determined to seize the present opportunity to 
win from him, if possible, a pledge of special future favour 
to her sons. In company with the young men, who were 
not at all averse to her schemes, she kneeled before Jesus, 
and besought him to grant whatever she might ask. 

“ AVhat wonkiest thou?” was the kindly inquiry. 

“ Command that these my two sons may sit, one on thy 
right hand, and one on thy left in thy kingdom.” 

“ Ye know not what ye ask,” said the Lord gently and 
sadly. “ Are ye able to drink the cup that I am about to 
drink?” 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


423 


“We are able,” returned the young men with ready 
confidence. 

“ My cup indeed ye shall drink : but to sit on my right 
hand, and on my left hand, is not mine to give ; but it is 
for them for whom it hath been prepared of my Father.” 

The remaining ten apostles were naturally incensed at 
this attempt on the part of the sons of Zebedee ; and 
when they rose and moved away, hostile comments were 
not lacking. 

“Ye know,” said Jesus, calling them all to him, “ that 
they who are accounted to rule over the Gentiles lord it over 
them ; ^od their great ones exercise authority over them. 
Not so shall it be among you ; but whosoever would 
become great among you, shall be your minister ; and 
whosoever would be first among you, shall be servant of 
all ; even as the Son of man came not to be ministered 
unto, but to minister, and to give his life a ransom for 
many.” 

Recrimination was prevented, and angry feeling allayed, 
by these noble words ; but it was several days before their 
comrades felt as warmly toward the sons of Zebedee as 
of old. 

Finally the looked-for caravan appeared ; and with its 
coming the quiet and peace of the morning gave place 
to noise and confusion. In the afternoon the tread of 
many feet, the cries of drivers to their beasts, and the 
occasional braying of the donkeys ; the talk of men and 
women, the exclamations and loud chatter of children, and 
now and then the wailing of an infant, — all combined to 
make a clamor with which the adjacent clifts and hillsides 
echoed as the train moved on, and before which birds and 
small animals took flight in terror. When the pilgrims 
learned that Jesus of Nazareth had joined them, the talk 
grew more general and animated, though perhaps less 
noisy, than before. Men told one another the news with 


424 


EMMANUEL ; 


evident satisfaction, each adding his own surmise as to its 
significance, till at length it became generally reported 
that Jesus was on his way to set up the kingdom at last ; 
and, since no report could have been more acceptable to the 
people, the whole caravan was ^soon exulting over the 
honour given it of escorting the future King on his tri- 
umphal ascent to Jerusalem. 

Crossing the Jordan that evening, and encamping for 
the night on the western bank, with the return of day the 
multitude moved on to the upper level of the valley, — in 
that region irrigated, and consequently fruitful, — and in 
the course of the forenoon arrived at Jericho. 

As Jesus was passing through this place, — then rich 
and prosperous, and known, from the quantities of balsam, 
or balm of Gilead, exported from it, as the City of Fra- 
grance, — a certain prominent and wealthy publican, Zac- 
chfeus by name, heard of his coming and sought earnestly 
to see him. A Rabbi who received publicans, and even 
had one of the detested class among his chosen followers, 
had never passed through Jericho, — indeed, had been un- 
known in Israel, until the days of Jesus of Nazareth. But 
others in the city were also desirous of seeing the Prophet 
of Galilee ; and Zacchreus, who was short of stature, on 
essaying to catch sight of the passing caravan, found the 
streets crowded with spectators who would make no way 
for a publican. Not to be foiled in his object, he ran on 
ahead, and climbed up into a sycamore fig-tree, under 
which the caravan would pass, and the low, sturdy 
branches of which made climbing easy. From this point 
of vantage he had an excellent view of Jesus as he came 
along, trudging patiently through the dust of the city 
street, and he found himself greatly drawn to the great 
Teacher, whose grave, sweet face was now so near ; so 
much so, indeed, that the query flashed upon his mind, 
“ Would this Jesus receive me also, were I to go to him? 


THE STORY OF THE 3rESSIAIL 


425 


His secret question received a startling answer ; the Mas- 
ter stopped directly below him, and looked up. 

“ Zacchasus,” — the tone was kindly, almost familiar, — 
“make haste, and come down; for to-day I must abide 
at thy house.” 

A glad light sprang into the publican’s eyes ; in a mo- 
ment he was on the ground, and without parley or protes- 
tation leading the Master to his house, where he received 
him with a joy wholly unfeigned. The crowd of beholders 
viewed the entrance of Jesus into the home of a notorious 
publican with far different feelings. 

“ He has gone in to lodge with a man that is a sinner ! ” 
they exclaimed. But they were mistaken ; the days of 
willing trangression for Zacchaeus were over. The act of 
public grace done him that morning by Jesus had brought 
to him a new conception of real holiness ; he had already 
determined upon a new life. Before bringing water for 
his guests’ feet, or performing any of the customary acts 
of hospitality, he stood forth before Jesus and the mur- 
muring crowd at the door, and' made a manful pledge as to 
his future conduct. 

“ Behold, Lord, the half of my goods I give to the 
poor ; and if I have wrongfully exacted aught of any man, 
I restore fourfold.” 

“ To-day,” said Jesus gladly, turning to the disciples, 
“ is salvation come to this house, forasmuch as he also is a 
son of Abraham.' For the Son of man came to seek and to 
save that which was lost.” 

In thinking over this incident afterward, it did not 
escape Thoma that Jesus did not require of this publican, 
who had volunteered to give up his wealth at the bidding 
of conscience, the entire surrender of worldly possessions 
which he had demanded of the rich synagogue ruler only 
the second day before. 

The Lord’s stay with Zacchaeus was short. To the 


426 


EMMANUEL ; 


regret of his happy host, he passed on through the city’s 
western ga^e at noon, and rejoined the caravan as it started 
out for the wild and toilsome ascent to Jerusalem. The 
city was hardly left behind, when the excited talk of the 
people caught the ear of a certain blind beggar, sitting by 
the wayside. Learning that Jesus of Nazareth was pass- 
ing, the afflicted man, commonly known as Bar-Timseus, 
raised his voice in clamorous entreaties. 

“ Jesus, thou Son of David,” he cried, “ have mercy on 
me.” 

The pilgrims looked upon his rags and dirt with disgust, 
and bade him be quiet. 

“Thou Son of David, have mercy on me,” rose his cry 
in yet more passionate entreaty. 

The piteous appeal reached the ears which were never 
deaf to such petitions. 

“ Call ye him,” said Jesus, stopping in the way. 

At this the crowd, eager to witness the marvellous, imme- 
diately became the man’s friends. 

“ Be of good cheer,” they said, approaching him ; “ rise, 
he calleth thee.” 

Flinging away his ragged outer garment, the blind man 
sprang to his feet, and came running to Jesus as fast as his 
new-made friends would guide him. 

“ What wilt thou that I should do unto thee? ” said the 
Lord compassionately. 

“ Rabboni, that I may receive my sight.” 

“Go thy way; receive thy sight: thy faith hath made 
thee whole.” 

In that moment Bar-Timaeus was blind no more : with 
vision restored, he joined himself to the followers of Jesus, 
and filled the air with praises and thanksgivings. Learning 
of the miracle, the whole train quickly caught up the refrain, 
and joined with the son of Timaeus in his hallelujahs. 
Surely the kingdom of God was soon to appear. As they 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


427 


understood the words, they were mistaken ; no temporal 
kingdom was to be established at Jerusalem, either at that 
Passover season or in many a long century to follow ; and 
while the caravan was passing the palm groves and gar- 
dens of the former royal palace, the story of which was 
familiar to every Israelite, Jesus turned about and seized 
the opportunity to place this fact before the people in 
terms clear enough to convey even then some meaning to 
the thoughtful and truth-seeking, and full enough to give 
light and hope and stimulus to his disciples after the great 
events about to take place at Jerusalem. He said : — 

“ A certain nobleman went into a far countiy to receive 
for himself a kingdom, and to return. And he called ten 
servants of his, and gave them ten pounds, and said unto 
them, Trade ye herewith till I come.” Plainly Jesus had 
in mind the departure of Archelaus from Jericho, and 
afterward from Jerusalem, to solicit from Caesar the crown 
of his father, leaving his treasures meanwhile in the hands 
of friends and servants, who, with one conspicuous excep- 
tion, proved faithful to their trust. “ But his citizens 
hated him, and sent an embassage after him, saying, 
We will not that this man reign over us. [The people 
of Judaea had sent a deputation to the Emperor, beseeching 
him not to place another Herod over them.] And it came 
to pass when he was come back again, having received the 
kingdom, that he commanded these servants, unto whom 
he had given the money, to be called to him, that he might 
know what they had gained by trading. And the first came 
before him, saying. Lord, thy pound hath made ten pounds 
more. And he said unto him. Well done, thou good ser- 
vant : because thou wast found faithful in a very little, 
have thou authority over ten cities. And the second came, 
saying. Thy pound. Lord, hath made five pounds. And 
he said unto him also. Be thou also over five cities. And 
another came, saying. Lord, behold, here is thy pound, 


428 


EMMANUEL ; 


•which I kept laid up in a napkin : for I feared thee, because 
thou art an austere man : thou takest up that thou layedst 
not down, and reapest that thou didst not sow. He saith 
unto him. Out of thine own mouth will I judge thee, thou 
wicked servant. Thou knowest that I am an austere man, 
taking up that I laid not down, and reaping that I did not 
sow ; then wherefore gavest thou not my money into the 
bank, and I at my coming should have required it with 
interest? And he saith unto them that stood by. Take 
away from him the pound, and give it unto them that hath 
the ten pounds. And they said unto him. Lord, he hath 
ten pounds. I say unto you, that unto every one that 
hath shall be given ; but from him that hath not, even that 
which he hath shall be taken away from him. Howbeit, 
these mine enemies, which would not that I should reign 
over them, bring hither, and slay them before me.’’ 

The parable finished, Jesus silently continued his journey 
toward the desolate mountains, between two of which lay 
the way to Jerusalem and to death. The enthusiasm of 
the multitude was effectually checked for the time ; a chill 
seemed to have passed over the people. They had not for- 
gotten how bitterly their first hopes had been disappointed 
in Archelaus, and any parallel between him and the Mes- 
siah, however vaguely understood, was very unwelcome. 
Thoma, following closely behind his Lord, noticed that, on 
entering the gorge leading up to the hill-country, depression 
was even more discernible in the face of Jesus than in the 
multitude. The same look of pain was in the deep, wonder- 
ful eyes as two days before, and the faithful disciple from 
Ephraim felt his former apprehensions come over him again 
in a flood. What was to happen at the Holy City, to which 
they were then going with steady upward march ? 

It did not quiet his misgivings to see a singular white 
cloud, long and slender, but clearly defined against the blue 
of the sky, and strangely motionless and unchanging in out- 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


429 


line, projecting out over the ravine in advance of them. 
In the open country it would doubtless have attracted no 
notice ; but in the narrow bed of the gorge, hemmed in by 
tall, beetling cliffs, that lofty white stripe bore a most 
marked and persistent resemblance to a Roman sword held 
in a strong hand. As Thoma’s eyes were lifted again and 
again to the threatening sword-image apparently awaiting 
their coming, it became identified with his forebodings. 
Were they about to pass under the sword of Rome? But 
why make of the singular cloud an omen of evil ? doubtless 
they were about to come into conflict with Rome ; but what 
then? had they ever expected the Messiah to avoid such a 
struggle? Was not deliverance from the yoke of the hated 
world-empire the first of the great events for which they 
looked to the promised Emmanuel? And who could doubt 
the issue of the strife, severe though it would certainly be 
at first? Had not the prophet declared explicitly that the 
Messiah should sit on the throne of David, and that of the 
increase of his government there should be no end? Ah, 
but the Master’s face ! and his fearful predictions ! — but 
surely those words were a parable. 

When the first steep ascent was passed, and the bright 
but failing waters of the stream were left some distance 
below, the caravan made the customary halt, that men and 
animals might rest. Seating himself, Jesus looked back 
and down through the savage, gray walls of the gorge to 
the fair oasis below, — prosperous Jericho with her amphi- 
theatre and palace, her towers and walls in the midst of it, 
— and then on to the long mountain wall beyond. It was 
a fair and striking prospect, and one upon which the Lord 
knew he was looking for the last time as a Jew. Suddenly 
the pilgrim throng broke forth into a chant of two of the 
beautiful Songs of Ascents, beginning, — 

“ I will lift up mine eyes unto the mountains : 

From whence shall my help come ? 

My help cometh from the Lord, 

.Which made heaven and earth.’’ 


430 


EMMANUEL ; 


aud coucdiiding, — 

“ Pray for the peace of Jerusalem : 

They shall prosper that love thee. 

Peace be within thy walls, 

And prosperity within thy palaces. 

For ray brethren and companions’ sakes, 

I will now say, Peace be within thee. 

For the sake of the house of the Lord our God, 

I will seek thy good.” 

The Lord listened to the closing words very sadly. 
Alas ! it was already too late to say to Jerusalem, Peace 
be within thy walls. 

The day was far spent when, the cheerless, wearisome 
upper wilderness passed, Jesus left the caravan at the door 
of his friends’ house at Bethany ; and the sun was sinking 
toward the western hills when the train, hastening over the 
shoulder of Olivet, that the Sabbath might not find them on 
the way, drew into the Holy City at the eastern gate. A 
group of Pharisees and elders just within the portal scanned 
closely the faces of all the new-comers. Clearly the}^ were 
looking for some one, and apparently looking in vain ; but 
too proud to acquaint the common people with the object of 
their search, when the last pilgrim had entered they strode 
proudly away, asking no questions. Not so, however, the 
pilgrims, whom the need of special purifications in prepa- 
ration for the Passover had already brought to the city. 
Ever since their arrival, and especially when gathered in 
the Temple, the probable action of Jesus had been a matter 
of inquiry among them. 

“What think ye?” they said one to another; “that he 
will not come to the feast ? ” 

These naturally were not long in learning from the new 
arrivals that Jesus was in Bethany, and not slow in circu- 
lating the news through the city. 

Quietly passed the Sabbath’s sacred hours, alike at Beth- 
any and at Jerusalem ; but with the disappearance of the 


THE STORY OF THE 2IESSIAII, 


431 


sunlight from the higher hill- tops on the evening of the holy 
day, the Lord’s last week of open manifestation on earth 
began. On that evening, Simon of Bethany, still known as 
“the leper,” in token of his regard for his benefactor and 
Lord, made Jesus a feast, to which Laazar and the twelve 
were invited ; while Martha, whose sister Miriam was now 
the wife of the host, had charge of the ministrations. 
Miriam’s loving heart found expression of its gratitude to 
one to whom she owed so much in a less practical manner 
than that of her husband or her sister. Approaching the 
couch where Jesus reclined in the place of honour, she broke 
a cruse containing a pound of pure and very precious nard 
over his head, poured part of the costly contents on his 
flowing hair, and with the remainder anointed his feet, 
wiping them afterward with her abundant and beautiful 
hair. Unobtrusively as the act was performed, every one 
was, of course, quickly aware of it, from the fragrance 
which filled the room. 

The twelve regarded Miriam in doubt ; such an expres- 
sion of affection seemed to them like waste. Was the labour 
of a man for a year to be thrown away in one evening ? In 
one of them criticism had gone beyond the stage of doubt ; 
in Judah of Kerioth a development had been going on for 
some time of a sinister and portentous character. He 
looked upon the shining face of Miriam, who had eyes for 
her Lord only, with undisguised disapproval. 

“Why was not this ointment,” he said harshly, “sold 
for three hundred shillings, and given to the poor?” 

The man of Kerioth was the treasurer of the apostolic 
company ; and was annoyed to think that, through this 
wasteful method of devotion, he had lost a rare opportunity 
of recruiting his purse. Jesus did not unmask the wicked 
heart of his follower, but hastened to Miriam’s defence. 

“Let her alone,” he said: “why trouble ye her? She 
hath wrought a good work on me. For ye have the poor 


432 


EMMANUEL ; 


always with you, and whensoever ye will ye can do them 
good ; but me ye have not always. She hath done what 
she could ; she hath anointed ray body aforetime for the 
burying. And verily I say unto you, Wheresoever the Gos- 
pel shall be preached throughout the whole world, that also 
which this woman hath done shall be spoken of for a me- 
morial of her.” 

Judah, though silenced, was far from changed in heart. 
The incident of the anointing, natural and beautiful in one 
who had recently received her brother back from the grave, 
only served to confirm a mind, by this time a home for evil 
thoughts and schemes, in a dark purpose, already harboured 
and half adopted. Now he determined that it should be 
put into execution at the first opportunity. 

In the mean time quite a company of visitors, some of 
them Pharisees, had come over from Jerusalem to see Jesus 
and the man whom he had raised from the dead. They 
heard from the villagers the story of Laazar’s death, resur- 
rection, and after-life, and the other events connected with 
Jesus* visits to Bethany ; and many of them concluded 
that it was unreasonable to doubt longer. 

At Jerusalem, during these same evening hours ushering 
in the new week, the chief priests, at length thoroughly 
aroused by the reports of the popular excitement over Jesus, 
took the initiative, and convened the Sanhedrin to discuss 
plots for the destruction of the now dreaded Nazarene. 
When at a late hour their spies returned from Bethany, tell- 
ing not only of the honour shown to Jesus, but of the im- 
pression made, even on Pharisees, by the presence and 
testimony of Laazar, the only effect on their plans was to 
lead them to place Laazar also under secret sentence of 
death. The tremendous miracle of the raising of this man, 
— a miracle which had been witnessed by too many of their 
own party to be denied, — shook their deadly purpose not 
in the least. Why should it? Because — so ran their argu- 


TUB STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


433 


ment — this Galila^an deceiver had a phenomenally perfect 
alliance with Beelzebub ; or because, perchance, by some 
forbidden means he had learned to use the ineffable four- 
lettered name of God, and so was able to work wonders and 
lead the people astray, were they, the appointed defenders 
of national orthodoxy, to abate their opposition to him, 
and their righteous zeal for the God of Israel? Far from it. 


434 


EMMANUEL ; 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

PALM SUNDAY.* 

Ride on, ride on, in majesty! 

In lowly pomp ride on to die; 

O Christ! thy triumphs now begin 

O’er captive death and conquered sin. 

Milman. 

^^"1 p AIL, Marcus! canst thou tell why the Hebrews 
1 I flock out of the city to-day, and go over the 
mount? Is not this the season they should be 
gathering from far and near, and entering in at the 
gates ? ” 

The speaker was the Roman knight, Sergius, formerly a 
centurion in command at Gophna, but latterly placed in 
charge of the great Antonio castle at Jerusalem. He was 
walking as he spoke on the outer wall of the citadel, 
where he had chanced to meet the centurion, Marcus, just 
come up from the gate into the city. 

“ They go over to Bethany, my lord,” was the rejily, 
“ to meet their prophet.” 

“Their prophet? I thought Antipas had disposed of 
their prophet.” 

“ Truly he did, my noble Sergius; but this is another. 
Thou hast heard, I doubt not, of Jesus of Nazareth?” 

“ I have, indeed ; I had forgotten him. He is a physi- 
cian ; and thou sayest he is the new prophet, Marcus ? ” 

“ He is, my lord ; and half the Jews in the city are per- 
suaded that he is the long-looked-for Messiah, and is about 
to come hither and set up his kingdom.” 

“ His kingdom ! Dost thou know of pretended Messiahs, 
and plots to set up a kingdom, and report them not? ” 


A JMatt. xxi. 1-32; Luke xx. 9-39; Mark xii. 28-34. 


THE STORY OF THE 3IESSIAII. 


435 


“ Not so, O tribune ! Restrain thine anger. I have but 
just learned this from the people going by the gate ; but 
I believe not there is aught in it. I have heard the man 
often, and I will wager thee a talent he is no enemy of the 
eagles.” 

“ The better for him, then. But thou knowest, Marcus, 
a man may make trouble here, especially at this season, 
without setting himself to it ; a chance spark may make a 
flame among these Hebrew fanatics.” 

“ Thou sayest truly, Sergius ; but if it come, it will not 
be a fire for our quenching. The Sanhedrin are already 
plotting his destruction ; and no foe of theirs is a menace 
to Rome. But what have we yonder? That is not a 
caravan.” 

The centurion pointed off across the Kedron ravine to 
the southern shoulder of Olivet, where a dense mass of 
men was seen pouring over the crest of the ridge. The 
two officers gazed at the spectacle in silence ; then a great 
shout from the multitude caused them to exchange glances. 
Presently it became clear that the multitude were escorting 
some one mounted on a white beast, — doubtless an ass, 
the animal traditionally associated with Jewish royalty. 

“Marcus,” said the tribune, turning to his companion, 
“ thy prophet is coming. Look well to the talent thou hast 
wagered ; I may have need of it.” 

Suddenly the shouts, which had been increasing in vol- 
ume, ceased altogether ; and the multitude stood still, every 
face turned toward the rider ; more than this, at that dis- 
tance, the Romans could not discover. 

“Now, by Olympus and all the gods!” ejaculated the 
tribune, “ if this man can quiet a Hebrew mob, 1 begin to 
think him a prophet indeed.” 

The surmise of the Roman was correct ; it was Jesus of 
Nazareth, coming with “lowly pomp ” and popular acclaim. 
All the morning of this first day of the week his friends had 


436 


EMMANUEL ; 


been gathering to him at Bethany. From Jerusalem, and 
from the camps of Passover pilgrims already established, 
from both sides of the Mount of Olives, from the Gihon 
valley, west of the city, and from Mount Scopus, north of 
it, they came, until by noon a host had assembled, full 
of enthusiasm from the general understanding that at last 
Jesus was to enter Jerusalem in triumph. 

In the course of the afternoon the Master joined them, 
and, responding to their loud acclamations with a smile of 
mingled kindness and sadness, turned his steps toward 
Jerusalem, choosing the broader and easier, though not the 
most direct, road over the southern shoulder of Olivet. 
When Bethany was left behind, the Lord seated himself by 
the wayside, and despatched two of the twelve to the 
neighbouring village of Bethphage, telling them that on its 
nearer edge they would find an ass and her colt tied. The 
latter of these, as yet never mounted by man, they were 
to loose, and bring to him, simply saying, should any one 
object, “The Lord hath need of him.” The men dis- 
charged their mission, delivering the prescribed mes- 
sage, returned with the colt, and spread their cloaks upon 
it. Jesus then sat upon the little animal, and, greeted 
with acclamations louder than ever, continued his prog- 
ress. Some there were attending their Lord on his way 
who recalled with a thrill of delight the words of the 
prophet : — 


“ Tell ye the daughter of Zion, 

Behold, thy King cometh unto thee, 

Meek, and riding upon an ass. 

And upon a colt the foal of an ass.” 

On crossing the ridge, and skirting the little spur just 
beyond it, the Holy City, in all its splendor of glistening 
Sanctuary and royal palace, towers, bridges, and mighty 
ramparts, burst upon their view ; and with the sight the 


TUB STOEY OF THE IfESSlAH. 


437 


people lifted up their voices again, in very excess of joy, 
in an impromptu refrain, caught up one from another. 
“ Blessed is the King,” it ran, “ that cometh in the name 
of the Lord : peace in heaven, and glory in the highest.” 

“ Teacher, rebuke thy disciples,” demanded certain Phar- 
isees. 

“ I tell you,” was the response, “ that if these shall hold 
their peace, the stones will cry out.” 

But though Jesus defended the rejoicings of his fol- 
lowers, he was far from entering into them. Despite the 
majesty of his look, — and, clothing aside, his appearance 
was majestic, — despite the graciousness of his smile to 
those who ran, almost under the feet of the ass, to spread 
their cloaks in the way, or to those who rushed forward to 
kiss his hand, in gratitude for blessings conferred by him, 
the prevailing expression of the Lord’s face was sad. His 
aspect of grief increased as the descent was continued. 
Finally his emotion could no longer be restrained, and, to 
the amazement and momentary consternation of his fol- 
lowers, he stopped short, and, gazing fixedly at Jerusalem, 
allowed the tears to stream from his eyes. 

“ If thou hadst known,” he said brokenly, “ in this thy 
day, even thou, the things which belong unto peace ! but 
now they are hid from thine eyes. For the day shall come 
upon thee, when thine enemies shall cast up a bank about 
thee, and compass thee round, and keep thee in on every 
side, and shall dash thee to the ground, and thy children 
within thee ; and they shall not leave in thee one stone upon 
another ; because thou knewest not the time of thy visi- 
tation.” 

Only the nearer bystanders heard the mournful words ; 
but the sight of the Master's tears naturally chilled the 
popular enthusiasm, and wonder and, in some cases, vague 
foreboding held the people for the time. Not for long, 
however ; when, on reaching the Valley, they were joined by 


438 


EMMANUEL ; 


thousands of pilgrims who, with palm-fronds in their hands, 
had come forth from the city to meet the approaching 
Lord, forebodings were forgotten in renewed exultings ; 
and once more strewing the way with garments, or with 
branches from the trees, they raised their voices in new and 
louder acclamations. These soon took on a common form, 
and became a mighty chorus. 

“ Hosanna,” 
was the cry ; 

“ Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord ; 

Blessed is the kingdom that cometh, the kingdom of our father David : 

Hosanna in the highest.” 

“Who is this?” inquired citizens of Jerusalem and 
strangers from abroad, as the great procession, Jesus on 
the white ass near its head, swept through the gates and the 
intervening streets, and around into the Tyropoeon. 

“ This is the prophet, Jesus, from Nazareth of Galilee.” 

From the lofty ramparts of the Antonio, the Roman 
soldiers, all now on duty and ready for any emergency, 
watched the enthusiastic procession with grim curiosity ; 
far otherwise was it with the leading Pharisaic elders and 
Rabbis, who also, and with a rage difficult to contain, beheld 
the triumphal entry of their dreaded opponent. 

“ Behold how ye prevail nothing,” said one of them bit- 
terly to his fellows ; “ lo, the world is gone after him.” 

When, the multitude following, the Lord had climbed the 
long flight of steps from the Tyropoeon to the top of Mount 
Moriah, and had looked around in the Temple, regardless 
of the angry scrutiny of the chief priests and scribes, the 
events of the day were over. There was work awaiting his 
hand in his Father’s house, indeed ; but evening was coming 
on, and, as it was no part of his plan to spend the night in 
the city, he sent the people away to their homes, or their 
tents and booths. They were disappointed ; they had ex- 


( THE STOEY OF THE 3fESSlAlI. 


439 


pected some royal declaration or some act of sovereignty 
that very day ; nevertheless, they retired at his command, 
consoling themselves with the promise which he gave of 
meeting them in the sacred courts in the morning. Jesus 
quietly betook himself to Bethany. 

Before breakfast on the morrow the Lord returned to 
Jerusalem with the twelve. On the way, faint from lack 
of food, and attracted by a fig-tree in full leaf, — a very 
exceptional thing at that season, — he turned aside that he 
might pluck some of the figs which, judging from the ap- 
pearance of the tree, should have been about ripe, — the 
fruit appearing on the boughs before the leaves. The 
search was in vain ; the showy tree, notwithstanding its 
appearance of exceptional performance, was without any 
fruit whatever, ripe or green. 

“ No man eat fruit from thee henceforth forever,” said 
Jesus, in condemnation of that pretentious worthlessness 
of which the tree was the type. 

Arrived at the Temple, he found a crowd of friends, foes, 
and spectators awaiting him. The first thing calling for 
his attention was the state of the sacred courts themselves. 
These, though purged of things profane and foul at the 
beginning of his public career, he found again polluted by 
the old abuses, crept in at the approach of the Passover 
with the connivance and, in some cases, at the instigation 
of the priests. Again the court of the Gentiles was more 
like a cattle-market than a temple ; again the lowing of 
oxen, the bleating of sheep, the clinking of coins, and the 
loud altercations of buyers and sellers mingled with the 
prayers of the ministrants, and disturbed the devotions of 
true worshippers. This was intolerable. With counte- 
nance sternly indignant, and words peremptory, the Lord 
drove the intruders, men and animals, out of the court into 
the city ; overthrew the tables of the money-changers, and 
the seats of the dove- sellers ; and turned back those mak- 


440 


EMMANUEL ; 


ing the Temple a mere thoroughfare. No need of scourge 
of rushes now ; the Reformer was no stranger in the clois- 
tered space. Then he turned sternly upon certain Sanhe- 
drists standing by, and viewing with ill-disguised rage the 
failure of their sordid schemes. 

“ Is it not written,” he demanded, “ My house shall be 
called a house of prayer for all the nations? but ye have 
made it a den of robbers.” 

The discomfited rulers kept silence ; the multitude was 
too plainly against them for any response suited to their 
humour. Within the shelter of the nearest colonnade two 
Romans had watched the stirring scene, and had listened 
with no little interest alike to Jesus’ arraignment of the 
hierarchs, and the subsequent venomous comments of the 
latter. 

“ How now, O tribune? ” said one of them quietly when 
Jesus had passed on, “ thinkest thou these holy barefoot 
men will not relieve us of anxiety about yonder Prophet? 
I charge thee, spend not thy talent till thou win it.” 

The popular enthusiasm of the day before yvus now re- 
kindled. Again the glad cry rose on the air, “ Hosanna ; 
Hosanna in the highest ! ” to which the children raised the 
answering shout, “ Hosanna to the Son of David ! ” From 
porch to porch, and then from court to court, the boyish 
voices rang, until the Sanhedrists could endure it no 
longer. Pushing their way angrily through the crowd of 
spectators, and the inner group of blind and lame, — to 
whom, with a pity and a tenderness in striking contrast 
with his recent austerity of bearing, Jesus was bringing 
health and gladness, — they confronted their antagonist 
once more. 

“ nearest thou what these are saying?” they burst out. 

“Yea, did ye never read. Out of the mouth of babes 
and sucklings thou hast perfected praise?” 

They had read the passage; moreover they, as they 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


441 


doubted not the bystanders, knew the words following it, 
“because of thine adversaries, that thou mightest still the 
enemy and the avenger ; ” and, fearing lest these should 
be turned against them with unpleasant effect, they with- 
drew as hurriedly, though not as proudly, as they had 
come forward. 

Jesus was again at the crest of the wave of popularity ; 
not since the feeding of the five thousand by the Sea of 
Galilee, just a year before, had men been so united and 
ardent in his favour : and again the next step must either 
be one of realization of national hopes, or a long down- 
ward stride in popular esteem. 

Art thou prepared for this hour, O Christ? Have thy 
weeks of prayer and reflection in the wilderness ; have thy 
night watches on the storm-swept mountain side, thy radi- 
ant hours of intercourse with Moses and Elijah on Her- 
mon’s mighty brow, — have these prepared thee for this 
hour? Canst thou walk now unfalteringly in the right 
way, in the face of the fact that all men deem it the wrong 
way? Hast thou considered fully that to disappoint the 
populace is to make enemies by the thousand? Yes, 
reader, yes ; all that we, with our knowledge of after 
events, can see was hanging on this hour, had been dis- 
cerned by the Saviour years before, and in spite of 
such knowledge, or rather in consequence of it, the divine 
course had been deliberately and finally chosen. Now 
there is neither mistake nor faltering. 

An hour passed by, and Jesus sat in Solomon’s Porch 
teaching. The listeners, at first attentive and eager, grew 
restless and dissatisfied ; this was not what they had ex- 
pected. Not that they disapproved of his doctrine ; but 
what time was this to teach? when was he to declare 
himself openly? when lead the people to the storming of 
the Antonio and the expulsion of the whole hateful Roman 
brood? Jesus, however, continued to teach; and.tke 


442 


EMMANUEL ; 


questions in their minds remained unanswered. With the 
coming of afternoon the people began to look disappointed, 
and the friends of Jesus dispirited. Gradually the throngs 
melted away, some returning to the city, some to their 
camps ; and soon the Master found opportunity to leave 
the Temple and return to Bethany almost unobserved. 
Again the Lord had chosen the road to sacrifice. 

Early the following morning, the third day of the week, 
he returned to Jerusalem for his final public encounter 
with the Sanhedrists. On their way up the Mount of 
Olives, Peter called attention- to the tree visited by them 
the morning before. 

“Rabbi,” he said, “behold the fig-tree which thou 
cursedst is withered away.” 

“ Verily I say unto you,” was the reply, “If ye have 
faith, and doubt not, ye shall not only do what is done to 
the fig-tree, but even if ye shall say unto this mountain. 
Be thou taken up and cast into the sea, it shall be done. 
And all things, whatsoever ye shall ask in prayer, believ- 
ing, ye shall receive.” 

Once more in the Temple, Jesus was at once surrounded 
by a crowd, which he taught as he walked — but not with- 
out interruption. Suddenly a formidable troop of rulers 
planted themselves before him. The Sanhedrists, detect- 
ing the abatement of popular enthusiasm, had taken heart 
accordingly. 

“Tell us,” demanded their leader, “ by what authority 
doest thou these things ? or who gave thee this authority to 
do these things ? ” 

Their demand was well timed ; for Jesus could not hold 
the favour of the people much longer without some claim 
of Messianic authority in the popular sense. They forgot, 
however, in their shrewd scheming, the ease with which 
this gentle- voiced, but undaunted, Galilseau had avoided 
all previous traps set for him. 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


443 


“ I will also ask you one question,” said Jesus calmly, 
“ which if ye tell me, I likewise will tell you by what 
authority I do these things. The baptism of John, whence 
was it? from heaven or from men ? Answer me.” 

The scribes looked at their opponent with amazement. 
To answer “ from heaven ” was to testify in behalf of 
their adversary ; for all men knew that John had pointed 
out Jesus as the coming Redeemer ; to say “ from men ” 
was to discredit themselves with the people ; for since his 
martyr death at the hands of the tyrant, John had been 
universally revered as a prophet. 

“We know not,” was their chagrined reply, itself a 
confession of defeat, since they claimed to be the all-suffi- 
cient teachers and guides of the people. 

“ Neither tell I you by what authority I do these things. 
But what think ye ? ” — to show that their pretended igno- 
rance sprang not from inability, but from unwillingness, 
to receive the truth. “ A man had two sons : and he came 
to the first, and said. Son, go work to-day in the vineyard ; 
and he answered and said, I will not : but afterward he 
repented himself, and went. And he came to the second, 
and said likewise. And he answered and said, I go, sir : 
and he went not. Whether of the twain did the will of his 
father?” 

“The first.” 

“ Verily I say unto you. That the publicans and the harlots 
go into the kingdom of God before you. For John came 
unto you in the way of righteousness, and ye believed him 
not : but the publicans and the harlots believed him : and 
ye, when ye saw it, did not repent yourselves afteiVard, 
that ye might believe him.” 

Of the signs of angry opposition on the part of the San- 
hedrists, Jesus took no notice. The time of gracious 
opportunity for them as a class had gone by ; it remained 
only to unmask them without mercy, in the hope that the 


444 


EMMANUEL ; 


consciences of some of their number might be stirred, and 
the people be led to seek better teachers and truer guides. 

“Hear another parable,” the Lord continued sternly : 
“ A man planted a vineyard, and let it out to husbandmen, 
and went into another country for a long time. And at 
the season he sent unto the husbandmen a servant, that 
they should give him of the fruit of the vineyard : but the 
husbandmen beat him, and sent him away empty. And he 
sent yet another servant : and him also they beat, and 
handled him shamefully, and sent him away empty. And 
he sent yet a third : and him also they wounded and cast 
forth. And the lord of the vineyard said. What shall I 
do ? I will send my beloved son : it may be that they will 
reverence him. And when the husbandmen saw him, they 
reasoned one with another, saying, This is the heir : let us 
kill him, that the inheritance may be ours. And they cast 
him forth out of the vineyard, and killed him. What 
therefore will the lord of the vineyard do unto them ? ” 

“He will miserably destroy those miserable men,” 
answered one of the listeners, with indignation, “ and will 
let out the vineyard unto other husbandmen, that shall 
render him the fruits in their seasons.” 

“ God forbid ! ” exclaimed another, catching the drift of 
the parable. 

“ What then,” said Jesus sadly, “ is this that is writ- 
ten, The stone which the builders rejected, the same was 
made the head of the corner? Therefore say I unto you. 
The kingdom of God shall be taken away from you, and 
shall be given to a nation bringing forth the fruits thereof. 
Every one that falleth on that stone shall be broken to 
pieces ; but on whomsoever it shall fall, it will scatter him 
as dust.” 

Most closely did the priests and Rabbis scan the faces of 
the people for signs of offence which might make it safe for 
them to apprehend one who dared to rebuke them, and 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


445 


prophesy their downfall thus publicly ; but in vain. The 
people had not yet lost hope in Jesus. 

Yielding to the unwelcome conclusion that they could 
make no headway against “ the Nazarene” in open contro- 
versy, they stalked away to the hall of the Sanhedrin to 
devise more subtle schemes for circumventing their foe. 
As a result, Jesus was presently approached by certain of 
their disciples, joined for once with a few of their arch- 
enemies, the Herodians, and armed with a question on 
which Pharisees and Herodians were at issue, and about 
which the feeling of the nation in general was very bitter. 
These emissaries, presumably unknown to Jesus, it was 
hoped might be able to take him off his guard. 

“ Master,” they began deferentially, and with an air of 
sincere desire for guidance aright, “ we know that thou art 
true, and teachest the way of God in truth, and carest not 
for any one : for thou regardest not the person of men. 
Tell us therefore. What thinkest thou? Is it lawful to give 
tribute unto Caesar, or not?” 

“ Why try ye me, ye hypocrites? Bring me a denarius, 
that I may see it.” 

One was produced, and handed to him. 

‘ ‘ Whose is this image and superscription ? ” holding up 
the coin. 

“ Caesar’s.” 

“Render therefore unto Caesar the things that are 
Caesar’s ; and unto God the things that are God’s.” 

The hypocritical inquirers looked at him in wonder ; that 
they who would refuse tribute to Caesar must first renounce 
the coinage and all other benefits of Caesar’s rule had 
never occurred to them ; but the answer was beyond cavil. 
The young men retired, and the Pharisaic plan of leading 
Jesus to expose himself either to popular displeasure by 
supporting Roman taxation, or to arrest by the Procurator 
by opposing it, was a failure. 


446 


EMMANUEL ; 


The next persons to measure themselves with him came 
from the chief priests, and were of a poorer stamp intel- 
lectually. The proud and wealthy Hanan, his sons, and 
his son-in-law Caiphah, then High Priest, selected from 
their fellow Sadducees — to a greater or less degree scep- 
tics as to all religious matters not taught in the Pentateuch 
— certain whom they thought unknown to Jesus, and de- 
spatched them to him with what was considered by them an 
invincible argument against the doctrine of the resurrection 
of the dead. 

“ Master,” said the new querists, “ Moses wrote unto us, 
that if a man’s brother die, having a wife, and he be child- 
less, his brother shall take the wife, and raise up seed unto 
his brother. There were therefore seven brethren : and the 
first took a wife, and died childless ; and the second ; and 
the third took her ; and likewise the seven also left no 
children, and died. Afterward the woman also died. In the 
resurrection therefore whose wife of them shall she be ? for 
the seven had her to wife.” 

Not a very profound question certainly ; for if the next 
life were in all respects a mere continuation of this, it 
would seem sufficiently clear that the woman in question 
must be the wife of her first husband, the others having 
been merely his representatives ; but the query, if not 
specially deep, at least possessed the merit of calling forth 
a reply which excited the admiration of the people and even 
of the few more candid scribes who still continued to 
listen. 

“Ye do err,” said Jesus, “ not knowing the Scriptures, 
nor the power of God. The sons of this world marry, and 
are given in marriage : but they that are accounted worthy 
to attain to that world, and the resurrection from the dead, 
neither marry, nor are given in marriage : for neither can 
they die any more : for they are equal unto the angels ; and 
are sous of God, being sons of the resurrection. But that 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH, 


447 


the dead are raised, even Moses showed, in the place con- 
cerning the Bush, when he calleth the Lord the God of 
Abraham, and the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob. 
Now He is not the God of the dead, but of the living : for 
all live unto Him.” 

“ Master, thou hast well said,” spoke out one of the 
scribes, who was impressed with the Lord’s discernment, 
and pleased at his vindication of the doctrine of the resur- 
rection. Then, after a pause, “ What commandment is the 
first of all?” 

This inquiry was a sincere one, and was answered cor- 
dially. 

“The first is. Hear, O Israel; The Lord is our God ; 
the Lord is one : and thou shalt love the Lord thy God with 
all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind, 
and with all thy strength. The second is this, Thou shalt 
love thy neighbour as thyself. Tliere is none other com- 
mandment greater than these.” 

“ Of a truth. Master, thou hast well said that He is one ; 
and there is none other but He : and to love Him with all 
the heart, and with all the understanding, and with all the 
strength, and to love his neighbour as himself, is much more 
than all whole burnt offerings and sacrifices.” 

“ Thou art not far from the kingdom of God,” said the 
Master with a friendly smile. 

From that hour scribe and priest, Pharisee and Sadducee, 
entered into no controversies with Jesus of Nazareth. No 
one cared to measure intellects with one who seemed proof 
against all attack. He was permitted to teach without in- 
terruption until noon, when he retired for a few hours to 
the Mount of Olives. The conspirators in the Sanhedrin 
began to fear that they would have to rely on secret- vio- 
lence after all. 


448 


t:MMANU^L ; 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

JUDGMENT AND PROPHECY.^ 


He that cometh after me is mightier than I, whose shoes I am not worthy to 
bear: . . . whose fan is in his hand, and he will thoroughly cleanse his 
threshing floor; and he will gather his wheat into the garner, but the chaff he will 
burn up with unquenchable fire. Matt. hi. 10 11. 

"AT” OT yet was the Lord done with the nation’s sancti- 
monious leaders ; one last stern duty remained to 
be performed. Israel as a people had despised or 
neglected its day of grace ; but many true sons of Abraham, 
sincere believers in, and worshippers of, the Lord of Hosts, 
might yet be saved if they could be shown the hopeless 
blindness of their leaders, — leaders whose great effort had 
been, during the three years of the Messiah’s career, to 
shut the eyes of the people to the dawning day, and lead 
them back into the night. Moreover, there was one great 
lesson, — a lesson of deepest importance to the future of the 
Messiah’s kingdom on earth, — which needed even stronger 
emphasis than it had yet received, alike for the sake of 
present believers and for the sake of those countless disci- 
ples to be gathered to his standard in years to come. Not 
all the utterances of the prophets, including those of his 
great forerunner John, had yet made it sufficiently clear that 
God desired mercy more than sacrifice, and knowledge of, 
and likeness to, him more than burnt offerings ; that hypoc- 
risy used as a cloak for iniquity was beyond all things 
else an abomination in the sight of the Most High. 

It was, therefore, with the stern and lofty bearing of the 
noblest of the ancient prophets, and with a light of intoler- 

1 Matt. xxii. 41-xxiii. 39; xxv. 1-13, 31-46; xxvi. 1-5, 14-16; Mark xii. 41-xiii. 
37 ; John xii. 20-50. 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


449 


ant purity and holiness in his eyes, — to which Thoma’s 
thoughts naturally reverted in after years, when a fellow- 
apostle declared our God to be a consuming fire, — that the 
Lord and Redeemer of men returned to the Temple in the 
afternoon, and witnessed the evening oblation. The sacri- 
ficial service over and the priestly benediction pronounced, 
Jesus, who had been standing close to the parapet enclosing 
the court of the priests, and not far from the great altar, 
turned about, and confronted the sea of bearded faces fill- 
ing the court. On one hand were his disciples ; on the 
other a large number of Rabbis and prominent Pharisees ; 
behind these, the multitude, intent on hearing what it seemed 
evident Jesus had to say. After all the disappointments, 
was he about to declare himself King of Israel ? A few 
moments of silence sufficed to fix every eye upon him. He 
then turned, with lowered eyebrows and firmly set lips, 
towards the Pharisees. 

“What think ye of the Christ?” he asked, “whose 
son is he ? ” 

Wary of him as the scribes now were, they could not 
evade a question the answer to which was known to every 
child in the land. 

“ The son of David.” 

“ How then doth David in the Spirit call him Lord, say- 
ing, The Lord said unto my Lord, Sit thou on my right 
hand till I put thine enemies underneath thy feet? If 
David then calleth him Lord, how is he his son?” 

There was no answer ; all knew that the psalm quoted 
by Jesus was held by the Rabbis to be distinctly Messi- 
anic ; but to have made the natural explanation that the 
Messiah was the son of David after the flesh, but spirit- 
ually of heavenly origin, would have been to surrender 
their chief contention, and to admit that their charges of 
blasphemy on the part of Jesus were groundless. 

“ The scribes and the Pharisees sit on Moses’ seat,” said 


450 


EMMANUEL ; 


the Lord, with soleran deliberateness, to the disciples and 
the listening people. “ All things therefore whatsoever 
they bid you, these do and observe : but do not ye after 
their works ; for they say, and do not. Yea, they bind 
heavy burdens and grievous to be borne, and lay them on 
men’s shoulders ; but they themselves will not move them 
with their finger. But all their works they do for to be 
seen of men : for they make broad their phylacteries, and 
enlarge the borders of their garments, and love the chief 
place at feasts, and the chief seats in the synagogues, and 
the salutations in the market-places, and to be called of 
men. Rabbi. But be not ye called Rabbi : for one is your 
Teacher, and all ye are brethren. And call no man your 
father on the earth : for one is your Father, even He who 
is in heaven. Neither be ye called masters : for one is your 
Master, even the Christ. But he that is greatest among 
you shall be your servant. And whosoever shall exalt 
himself shall be humbled ; and whosoever shall humble 
himself shall be exalted.” 

There was a certain ring of warning and intense earnest- 
ness in the Lord’s voice as he said these words, that held 
his hearers as with a spell, — a spell revealing itself by 
the general shif tings of position when he ceased. 

When next he spoke it was to the Sanhedrists on his 
right ; and with his first words the priests beyond the par- 
apet paused in their functions, and the interest of the 
throng again became intense, even to the point of painful- 
ness. Words there were in that terrible address, which, 
uttered in any ordinary tone or by any other man, would 
have spurred the proud, fierce Hebrew leaders to instant 
vengeance, and would have crimsoned the pavement with 
the blood of the rash accuser and his followers ; but neither 
the speaker nor his tone were ordinary. There was in the 
voice of Jesus, with all its sternness and calm fearlessness, 
with all its terrible distinctness, an accent of painful con- 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


451 


viction and bitter regret, which freed it of all trace of 
personal animosity or passion ; which made men feel that 
the scathing words came by sad necessity from a heart 
deeply stirred with love for righteousness and intolerance 
of iniquity, and sorely grieved over the wilful and per- 
sistent evil-mindedness of his fellow-men. 

“ But woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites ! ” 
ran the deliberate and fearful arraignment, “ for ye com- 
pass sea and land to make one proselyte ; and when he is 
become so, ye make him twofold more a child of hell than 
yourselves. 

“Woe unto you, ye blind guides, who say. Whosoever 
shall swear by the Temple, it is nothing ; but whosoever 
shall swear by the gold of the Temple, he is a debtor. Ye 
fools and blind : for whether is greater, the gold, or the 
Temple that hath sanctified the gold? And, Whosoever 
shall swear by the altar, it is nothing ; but whosoever shall 
swear by the gift that is upon it, he is a debtor. Ye 
blind : for whether is greater, the gift, or the altar that 
sanctifieth the gift? He therefore that sweareth by the 
altar, sweareth by it and by all things thereon. And he 
that sweareth by the Temple, sweareth by it, and by Him 
that dwelleth therein. And he that sweareth by the 
heaven, sweareth by the throne of God, and by Him that 
sitteth thereon. 

“ Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites ! For 
ye tithe mint and anise and cummin, and have left undone 
the weightier matters of the law, justice and mercy and 
faith : but these ye ought to have done, and not to have 
left the other undone. Ye blind guides, who strain out the 
gnat, and swallow the camel. 

“ Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites ! For 
ye cleanse the outside of the cup and of the platter, but 
within they are full from extortion and excess. Thou 
blind Pharisee, cleanse first the inside of the cup and of 


452 


EMMANUEL ; 


the platter, that the outside thereof may become clean 
also. 

“ Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites ! For 
ye are like unto whited sepulchres, which outwardly appear 
beautiful, but inwardly are full of dead men’s bones, and 
of all uncleanness. Even so ye also outwardly appear 
righteous unto men, but inwardly ye are full of hypocrisy 
and iniquity. 

“Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites ! For 
ye build the sepulchres of the prophets, and garnish the 
tombs of the righteous, and say. If we had been in the 
days of our fathers, we should not have been partakers 
with them in the blood of the prophets. Wherefore ye 
witness to yourselves that ye are sons of them that slew 
the prophets. Fill ye up, then, the measure of your 
fathers. Ye serpents, ye offspring of vipers, how shall ye 
escape the judgment of hell? Therefore, behold, I send 
unto you prophets, and wise men, and scribes ; some of 
them shall ye kill and crucify ; and some of them shall ye 
scourge in your synagogues, and persecute from city to 
city : that upon you may come all the righteous blood shed 
on the earth, from the blood of Abel the righteous unto 
the blood of Zachariah son of Barachiah, whom ye slew 
between the sanctuary and the altar. Verily I say unto 
you. All these things shall come upon this generation. 

“ O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, that killeth the prophets, and 
stone th them that are sent unto her ! ” he cried with 
clasped hands and tearful eyes, sorrow finally mastering 
indignation, while in the hearts of his hearers the bitter 
lament rang for the moment like a cry of doom ; “ how 
often would I have gathered thy children together, even 
as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye 
would not ! Behold, your house is left unto you desolate. 
For I say unto you. Ye shall not see me henceforth till ye 
shall sav, Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the 
Lord.” 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


453 


The tremendous power of this address was shown by its 
effect upon the Rabbis, usually so arrogant and self-com- 
placent. Now they shrank back from their accuser as 
far as the crowded state of the place would permit, and 
with blanched faces regarded the man who laid bare their 
very hearts to the gaze of men. What did not those eyes 
of his see? What fearful truth would he utter next? 
Three years of heavenly teaching, three years filled with 
gracious appeals and works of divine compassion, had 
eliminated all elements of pardonable ignorance from their 
venomous opposition ; the antagonism on this occasion was 
that of light and darkness, holiness and iniquity, pure and 
simple. Such antagonisms occur 'rarely on this earth, 
where good and evil are commonly so strangely and sadly 
intermingled ; when they do occur it is always to demon- 
strate that holiness surpasses iniquity quite as truly in 
might as in beauty. This superior power of purity and 
righteousness it was which hushed every comment in the 
excited Jewish throng, and slew every thought of defence, 
recrimination, or violence in the breasts of the cowering 
Pharisees. At last even the proudest members of the San- 
hedrin realized the truth of the report of their own officers, 
“ Never man so spake.” The Lord’s last words to Israel’s 
leaders had been spoken. 

When in sorrowful dignity he had passed through the 
throng, and out at the Nicanor Gate, the Sanhedrists recov- 
ered their self-possession ; but it was only to realize the 
completeness of their discomfiture, and to think of the 
fearless Galilsean with rage and malignity which were con- 
trolled only by fear, and before which the small minority 
in the Sanhedrin, at heart believers in Jesus, were dumb. 

In the court of the women the Master seated himself for 
a few minutes. His work in his Father’s house was done ; 
but he would not give even the appearance of flying from 
the powerful foes whom now he had angered past all for-, 
giveness or forgetfulness. 


454 


EMMANUEL ; 


Silence ensued. There was an air of sorrow about the 
Master which hushed disciples and people alike. Presently 
there was an interruption. A number of Greeks, proselytes 
to Judaism, then in the city for the Passover festival, had 
been impressed by the reports of the Prophet of Nazareth, 
and surmising that Philip’s Greek name betokened some 
acquaintance with the Greek tongue, they came to him 
with the request, “ Sir, we would see Jesus.” Philip hes- 
itated ; these men were proselytes, it is true ; but even 
proselytes were not the equals of true Hebrews. Would 
the Master wish to receive them ? He communicated his 
doubts to Andrew, who, with a truer recognition of his 
Lord’s spirit, immediately went with Philip to Jesus, — the 
Greeks following, — and told him the story. The Master 
received the strangers kindly, but gravely ; already the 
Gentiles were coming to his light, and that light was not 
yet at its full power ; his work was not yet done. 

“ The hour is come that the Son of man should be glori- 
fied,” he said. “ Verily, verily, I say unto you. Except a 
grain of wheat fall into the earth and die, it abideth by 
itself alone ; but if it die, it beareth much fruit. He that 
loveth his life loseth it ; and he that hateth his life in this 
world shall keep it unto life eternal. If any man serve 
me, let him follow me ; and where I am, there shall also 
my servant be : if any man serve me, him will the Father 
honour. Now is my soul troubled ; and what shall I say ? 
Father, save me from this hour? But for this cause 
came I unto this hour.” Then, with uplifted face and 
voice tremulous with feeling, “ Father, glorify Thy name.” 

Instantly, to the terror of some, and the half-incredu- 
lous amazement of others, a reply came from the heavens, — 

“ I have both glorified it, and will glorify it again.” 

The incredulous said, it thundered. “ An angel hath 
spoken to him,” was the judgment of others with senses 
more alert. 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


455 


‘‘ This voice,” said Jesus, interrupting their discussions, 
“ hath not come for my sake, but for your sakes. Now is 
the judgment of this world : now shall the prince of this 
world be cast out. And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, 
will draw all men unto myself.” 

“We have heard out of the law that the Christ abideth 
forever,” broke in impatiently those who were unbelieving 
concerning the heavenly voice, and vexed with the contin- 
ued disappointment of their hopes ; “ and how sayest thou. 
The Son of man must be lifted up ? who is this Son of 
man?” 

“ Yet a little while is the light among you,” Jesus went 
on, paying no attention to his irritated querists. “ Walk 
while ye have the light, that darkness overtake you not : 
and he that walketh in the darkness knoweth not whither 
he goeth. While ye have the light, believe on the light, 
that ye may become sons of light.” 

As Jesus left the court and the Temple, the eyes of all 
followed him ; a few in reverence, some in doubt, more in 
disappointment already verging upon anger and animosity. 
Was this man trifling with them? was he, after all, not the 
Messiah, but a deceiver, a teacher of a false religion? After 
entering the city in triumph on the first day of the week, 
was he now, with a few enigmatical utterances, about to 
evade his high responsibilities, and bring to naught splen- 
did national hopes? Were the Pharisees right in their 
judgment of him? 

The restlessness, the impatience, the sense of disap- 
pointment of the day before — the second day of the 
week — had gained strength rapidly since another morn- 
ing and another afternoon had gone by without the slight- 
est sign of the coming of the longed-for kingdom. 
Disappointment and vexation had, indeed, been lost in 
awe in those who listened to the woes pronounced in the 
inner court ; but the former sensations returned with fresh 


456 


EMMANUEL ; 


force after that memorable encounter was over, and Jesus 
was discovered seated quietly over against the treasury ; 
it would not be long before vexation would become resent- 
ment and opposition. 

Surely such a change of feeling in the common people 
will not seem surprising when we remember that a like 
revolution of sentiment took place in one of the twelve 
favoured followers of the Lord. Judah, commonly known 
as the man of Kerioth (Iscariot), to distinguish him from 
the other Judahs in the apostolic company, was a man of 
some ability, of passionate nature, and of large ambition. 
He was, in some respects, — particularly in matters requir- 
ing the executive talent, — a stronger character than many of 
his comrades ; but there was a grave defect in his spirit- 
ual nature which rendered a bias toward evil dangerously 
easy. He did not readily apprehend such unseen realities 
as righteousness, purity, the Infinite God, and the life to 
come. Not that he could not understand these things ; 
but he interested himself much more easily in material 
matters, especially in whatever held forth promise of per- 
sonal aggrandizement. The teaching of Jesus, which had 
been a part of the attractive force drawing his comrades, 
fell, in his case, into indifferent ears and a heart preoccu- 
pied with selfish concerns. During the first two years of 
the Lord’s career he approved that teaching sincerely 
enough ; for was it not plain that it and the works of the 
Master were winning the people in increasing numbers, 
and creating a wave of popular enthusiasm which prom- 
ised soon to sweep over the entire land, overwhelming 
scornful Rabbis and insolent Romans together ? While the 
tide was rising and hope bright, no disciple was more 
devoted than Judah ; nor would he probably have failed 
his Lord in adversity, had his faith remained unshaken. 
He belonged to that class of partisans — of whom, unfor- 
tunately, the world has seen far from few — who are on 


TUE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


457 


the right side, not because it is the right side, but because 
it is their side ; not from devotion to God and truth and 
fellow-man, but from motives of self-interest. To a 
Master in adversity through superior power of opponents, 
Judah would doubtless have remained faithful ; a Master 
in adversity through devotion to duty excited only his 
warm disapprobation. 

When, therefore, at the Passover season, a year before, 
Jesus chose the unpopular path, his loyalty received a 
serious shock. It was clear to him that the Lord had 
made a serious mistake in not seizing the crown within his 
reach at the feeding of the five thousand, and putting him- 
self at the head of his enthusiastic followers in an insur- 
rectionary march to Jerusalem. For, without doubt, — so 
he reasoned, — the vast multitudes then at the feast would 
have joined the Messianic host, and before Pentecost every 
Roman would have been driven from the land, and the 
throne of David reestablished in glory. The man of Keri- 
oth could not know, of course, that on the mountain side 
Jesus had deliberately chosen his path. He looked upon 
his Lord’s course then simply as a mistake. Though the 
coming of Jesus across the stormy water that night made 
a powerful impression upon him, yet from that time he 
became more critical of his acts and words. The discourse 
on the bread of life, and the virtual exile in Phoenicia and 
the region of Mount Hermon, of the succeeding summer, at 
once perplexed and annoyed him ; and when his hopes of 
a revolutionary movement, at the feast of Tabernacles in 
the fall, proved illusive, the man began to debate whether 
it were not possible that he had been deceived. Could it 
be, after all, that this Jesus was not the Messiah, and had 
no intention of restoring the kingdom to Israel ? The idea, 
at lirst repelled as impossible, fell in so well with things 
seen and heard while with his Master, that he found him- 
self debating the question with increasing frequency. The 


458 


EMMANUEL ; 


tour through Persea, with its local enthusiasm, revived his 
hopes and strengthened his faith for a time ; but when 
that enthusiasm seemed to come to nothing, and the Master 
was obliged to retire into concealment, first at the Jordan, 
afterward at Ephraim, his doubts returned. Banished 
time after time by the miracles of Jesus, they always came 
back, especially on hearing some obnoxious doctrine ; for, 
by this time, he was far from indifferent to his Lord’s teach- 
ing. From the hour when, with a mind agitated by doubt 
and clouded with suspicion, he gave that teaching his close 
attention, he found himself viewing it with a truer under- 
standing indeed, but with a growing aversion also. Jesus’ 
predictions of coming death did not disturb him greatly ; 
he regarded them as springing from passing states of de- 
spondency ; but the persistent exalting of the spiritual 
above the material, the unseen over the seen ; the frequent 
disparagements of wealth, and warnings against covetous- 
ness, — a master-passion with the man of Kerioth, — and 
especially the declaration to the Pharisees at Ephraim, 
“ The kingdom of God cometh not with observation : 
neither shall they say, Lo, here ! or. There ! for lo, the 
kingdom of God is within you,” — these things annoyed 
him, shook his faith, and finally excited his angry oppo- 
sition. 

It was a short step thence to deep-seated hostility. It 
was a fact, then, he gloomily reflected, that he, Judah of 
Kerioth, notwithstanding his superior shrewdness, had been 
duped. He had thrown away nearly three years following 
a religious fanatic, a mere Rabbi of a new stamp, up and 
down the land, — a good man, likely enough, but imbued 
with many absjird and impracticable notions. What a hu- 
miliating outcome ! To hear good maxims, which he had 
little inclination to follow, and then, should he escape the 
wrath of the Sanhedrin, to go home and be scoffed at by his 
neighbours, — for this he had sacrificed his prospects of 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


459 


gain these three years back ! The more he thought of the 
matter, the more incensed he grew. Then he began to 
think it was no more than right he should in part reimburse 
himself for his sacrifices from his Master’s purse, which 
he had been appointed to carry. 

It was largely because he had begun so to do, that 
Miriam’s costly anointing of her Lord angered him so 
greatly ; he would gladly have had the value of the ointment 
pass into his own possession. Yet that evening Judah’s 
hostility wavered for a moment ; for the Lord’s eyes met 
his with that mournful, appealing look which he had seen 
in them when turned toward himself many times in the 
year then past. He recoiled under the look, perceiving that 
Jesus knew his crime, and felt a momentary impulse to 
throw himself at his Lord’s feet, and confess all ; but with 
the defence and commendation of Miriam, the better im- 
pulse died, and his resentment springing up again, — all 
the more vehemently because of the necessity of restraint, 
— ran into darker, channels than ever. 

So this man was cognizant of his peculations, his thought 
ran on. Small opportunity would he have then to profit by 
his office ; for doubtless the common purse would now be 
taken from him. Where then would be the return for all 
his sacrifices? At any rate there was one thing still open 
to him. What harm could there be in surrendering this 
man to the Sanhedrin ? they were the appointed judges of 
Israel; and if this Nazarene was a true prophet, — the 
Messiah he was not, — he would be able to establish it 
before them, and be honoured accordingly ; while his former 
follower, Judah of Kerioth, would be able to command 
from the authorities a sum which would prove at least a 
small recompense for three years of delusion. The sophistry 
did not really deceive him ; his strong common sense told 
him too plainly what sort of judgment the Master would 
receive from the Sanhedrin ; but he silenced any feeble 


460 


EMMANUEL ; 


scruples with the consideration that it would make no dif- 
ference to Jesus. In the mad career he was pursuing, his 
apprehension by the rulers, the moment the festival pil- 
grims were gone, was a certainty ; and there was no suf- 
ficient reason why the arrest should not be the means of 
making some amends to the man of Kerioth for his losses. 

This reasoning, though shaken by the triumphal entry, 
was only confirmed by the events following the purification 
of the Temple. And now, on the afternoon of the third 
day of the week, after the Lord’s fell indictment of the 
Sanhedrists, he followed him out of the Temple, saying 
within himself that the hour for action had come. This 
mad “ Nazar ene ” was winding himself in a net through 
which it would be impossible for him to break ; and, if the 
disciple from Kerioth did not negotiate with the priests and 
Rabbis quickly, they would find means to apprehend their 
foe without his aid. No time now was to be lost. 

The dawn of the fourth day of the week found Jesus 
again in the Temple, closely watched, of course, by his foes. 
At the first glimpse of the white walls of Hebron, far 
away southward, the priests took their stations, and the 
morning sacrifice proceeded. Jesus watched the service — 
soon to pass away forever — to the close with mournful 
interest. It was his last visit to his Father’s house ; never 
again was he to witness its ceremonies, or teach in its courts ; 
he had come “ unto his own, and his own received him not.” 
With the concluding words of the benediction, he turned 
away, heeding the looks neither of the people nor of his 
enemies, and passed silently out of the court. Among the 
pillars of the arcaded Nicanor Gate, however, he stopped, 
and cast a lingering glance back over the huge whitewashed 
altar and the gilded fa9ade of the Holy House. The halt, 
though brief, gave opportunity for the people to follow. 
Quite a company gathering about him in the women’s court. 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


461 


he went back a few steps toward the gate, and spoke his 
farewell words to those adherents who had become such 
recently, and many of whom were secret disciples, — Phar- 
isees and synagogue rulers, — with faith in him as yet un- 
confessed. 

“ He that believeth on me,” he cried, “ believeth not on 
me, but on Him that sent me. And he that beholdeth me 
beholdeth Him that sent me. I am come a light into the 
world, that whosoever believeth on me may not abide in 
the darkness. And if any man hear my sayings, and keep 
them not, I judge him not : for I came not to judge the 
world, but to save the world. He that rejecteth me, and 
receiveth not my sayings, hath one that judgeth him ; the 
word that I spake, the same shall judge him on the last day. 
For I spake not from myself ; but the Father who sent me. 
He hath given me a commandment, what T should say, and 
what I should speak. And I know that His commandment 
is life eternal : the things, therefore, which I speak, even as 
the Father hath said unto me, so I speak.” 

Jesus had made his last plea. The straightforward prot- 
estation, sorrowfully earnest, tenderly entreating, rang for 
a moment in the ears of the listening throng, and the 
public ministry of the divine Man was over. Never again 
with his own lips was he to extend the Gospel invitation ; 
never again, with one memorable exception, were the people 
to be addressed by their King. The Master departed. 

On the way Philip’s eye was caught by the great blocks 
of stone which the masons were slowly placing in posi- 
tion in the Temple wall. 

“ Master,” he exclaimed, glancing from them to the 
blocks already a part of the structure, “ behold what 
manner of stones and what manner of buildings ! ” 

Jesus looked, but caught none of Philip’s enthusiasm. 
His eye ran over the noble group of cloisters, imposing 
in proportions, and beautiful with that artistic symmetry 


462 


EMMANUEL ; 


which Greece had taught the world ; from them it rose to 
the more truly sacred buildings in the centre, whose walls 
and towers, though certainly ruder in form, were associated 
with the worship and the revelation of the one true God ; 
but there was a sad wistfulness, rather than admiration, in 
the Lord’s gaze. 

“ Seest thou these great buildings?” he said, as he 
moved on, “ there shall not be left here one stone upon 
another, which shall not be thrown down.” 


Less than an hour later, seated on the side of the Mount 
of Olives, the Sanctuary, glistening with white marble and 
shining with yellow gold, over against them, the sons of 
Jonah and the sons of Zebedee inquired of him privately 
about his prediction in the Temple. Startling as this was, 
it did not excite the dismay that a modern reader would 
expect ; for it was a doctrine of the Rabbis that, between 
the Messiah’s first appearance and his triumph, there 
would be a period during which he would be hidden, and 
at the close of which, just before his reappearance, there 
would be great disasters and tribulations. 

“ Master,” said Peter, “ tell us, when shall these things 
be ? and what shall be the sign when these things are about 
to come to pass ? ” 

“Take heed that no man lead you astray,” said Jesus 
earnestly. “ Many shall come in my name, saying, I am 
he ; and shall lead many astray. 

“But when ye see Jerusalem compassed with armies, 
then know that her desolation is at hand ; when ye see the 
abomination of desolation standing where he ought not, 
then let them that are in Judaea flee unto the mountains ; 
and let them that are in the midst of her depart out ; and 
let not them that are in the country enter therein : let him 
that is on the housetop not go down, nor enter in, to take 
anything out of his house ; let him that is in the field not 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


463 


return back to take Ms cloak. But woe unto them that 
are with child and to them that give suck in those days ! 
for there shall be great distress upon the land, and wrath 
upon this people. And they shall fall by the edge of the 
sword, and shall be led captive into all the nations : and 
Jerusalem shall be trodden down of the Gentiles. And 
pray ye that it be not in the winter, neither on a Sabbath : 
for then shall be great tribulation, such as hath not been 
from the beginning of the world until now, no, nor ever 
shall be. And, except those days had been shortened, no 
flesh would have been saved : but for the elect’s sake those 
days shall be shortened. Then, if any man shall say 
unto you, Lo, here is the Christ ; or Lo, there ; believe it 
not : for there shall arise false Christs and false prophets, 
and shall show signs and wonders, that they may lead 
astray, if possible, the elect. But take ye heed : behold, 
I have told you all things beforehand. Now from the fig- 
tree learn her parable : when her branch is now become 
tender, and putteth forth its leaves, ye know that the 
summer is nigh ; even so ye also, when ye see these things 
coming to pass, know that it is nigh, even at the doors. 
Verily I say unto you. This generation shall not pass away 
until all these things be accomplished. Heaven and earth 
shall pass away : but my words shall not pass away. 

“ And when ye shall hear of wars and rumours of wars, be 
not troubled ; these things must needs come to pass ; but 
the end is not yet. For nation shall rise against nation, 
and kingdom against kingdom ; there shall be earthquakes 
in divers places ; there shall be famines ; these things are 
the beginning of travail. But in those days, after that 
tribulation, the sun shall be darkened, and the moon shall 
not give her light, and the stars shall be falling from 
heaven, and the powers that are in the heavens shall be 
shaken. And then shall they see the Son of man coming 
in the clouds with great power and glory. And then shall 


464 


EMMANUEL ; 


he send forth the angels, and shall gather together his elect 
from the four winds, from the uttermost part of the earth 
to the uttermost part of heaven. But of that day or that 
hour knoweth no one, not even the angels in heaven, 
neither the Son, but the Father. 

“ But take ye heed to yourselves ; for they shall deliver 
you up to councils ; and in synagogues shall ye be beaten ; 
and before governors and kings shall ye stand for my sake, 
for a testimony unto them. And the Gospel must first be 
preached unto all the nations. And when they lead you to 
judgment, and deliver you up, be not anxious beforehand 
what ye shall speak ; but whatsoever shall be given you in 
that hour, that speak ye ; for it is not ye that speak, but 
the Holy Spirit. And brother shall deliver up brother to 
death, and the father his child ; and children shall rise up 
against parents, and cause them to be put to death, and ye 
shall be hated of all men for my name’s sake ; but he that 
endureth to the end, the same shall be saved. 

“ Take ye heed, watch and pray ; for ye know not when 
the time is. It is as when a man, sojourning in another 
country, having left his house, and given authority to his 
servants, to each one his work, commanded also the porter 
to watch. Watch therefore: for ye know not when the 
Lord of the house cometh, whether at even, or at midnight, 
or at cock-crowing, or in the morning ; lest coming suddenly 
he find you sleeping. And what I say unto you I say unto 
all. Watch.” 

The disciples listened to the solemn words of their Mas- 
ter with breathless attention but very imperfect compre- 
hension. One of them made no effort at understanding. 
Judah of Kerioth listened to the Master’s vivid depiction 
of the future with contemptuous impatience. Was it then 
for a leader carried away with such fancies as these, he 
asked himself once more ; was it for a religious enthusiast, 
led on by dreams of this character, that he had sacrificed 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


465 


home and friends and prospects, and laid up for himself 
the relentless enmity of the Sanhedrin, not to speak of the 
derision of his fellow-townsmen? One thing was certain: 
he would parley with this question no longer. 

Rising to his feet, and remarking that he must purchase 
certain things in the city, he withdrew from his comrades, 
and went down the mountain on his evil errand. Jesus 
followed him with his eyes sorrowfully, till the traitor 
reached the valley ; then the Master looked over toward 
the Temple again. 

“Ye know,” he said quietly, “that after two days the 
Passover cometh, and the Son of man is delivered up to be 
crucified.” 

The eleven regarded their Lord with dismay ; but 
with the latter’s serene countenance before them, they 
could not believe the terrible words were to be given a 
literal rendering. 

The hours of the April afternoon went by very quietly 
with that cluster of men on the upper slope of Olivet, — 
quietly, with few remarks, and long invervals of silence, 
each surveying the brilliant, and in many respects beauti- 
ful, landscape, and occupied with his own reflections. 

Meanwhile the man of Kerioth found the Sanhedrin not 
in session. He wandered through the Temple courts, but 
found it difficult to summon sufficient courage to seek out 
one of the chief priests or Rabbis and disclose his errand. 
The act which he had fully determined upon when across 
the ravine he now shrank from with a strange feeling of 
apprehension. Under the influence of this feeling he let 
the hours go by until evening, and at sunset stood by the 
eastern gate, debating whether to carry out his plan or to 
return to Bethany. He had almost decided to postpone 
the meditated act, when it occurred to him that the mor- 
row might be too late ; the Sanhedrin might capture Jesus in 
secret through other agents than himself. No ; he must 
act immediately. 


466 


EMMANUEL ; 


It was with no little astonishment as well as satisfaction 
that the Sanhedrin, convened- that evening at the house of 
Hanan, found itself called upon to consider an offer of 
surrender of the man whom most of the members hated 
and feared by one of his chosen followers. This was 
good fortune beyond what the rulers had ventured to hope 
for. With instinctive greed, however, they dissembled 
their satisfaction, and proceeded to drive as good a bar- 
gain with the traitor as possible. The latter, on the other 
hand, quite their equal in the arts of chaffering on ordi- 
nary occasions, was in a trepidation for which the pres- 
ence of the august Sanhedrin did not account. 

“ What are ye willing to give me,” he demanded bluntly, 
losing his customary coolness and wariness, “and I will 
deliver him unto you ? ” 

Perceiving and seizing their advantage, they offered him 
thirty shekels of the Sanctuary, — the price of a slave ! A 
mean bribe assuredly ; but Judah had gone too far already 
to find it easy to stand upon terms ; moreover, avarice, 
though a master passion with him, was rather the occa- 
sion than the cause of the villany he was perpetrating. 
Angry disappointment, and the inevitable antipathy of base- 
ness to sinlessness, more even than greed, drove Judah to his 
act of basest treachery, — the betrayal of a sacred trust such 
as in no other age has been committed to man. The price, 
much as it figured in the reasonings by which he quieted 
qualms of conscience, was really a secondary consideration. 
To the astonishment of the Sanhedrists, their offer was 
accepted ; and it was agreed between the two parties to 
the base contract, that at the first opportunity for taking 
Jesus in the absence of the Passover multitude, the be- 
trayal should be accomplished. 


THE STORY OF THE 2fESSIAH 


467 


CHAPTER XXX. 


THE LAST SUPPER AND GETHSEMANE.^ 

’Tis midnight, and on Olive’s brow 
The star is dimmed that lately shone : 

’Tis midnight; in the garden, now, 

The suffering Saviour prays alone. 

W. B. Tappan. 


44 




O and make ready the Passover, that we may eat.’’ 
It was the command of Jesus to Peter and 
John. The day was the fifth of the week, the 
one following that of the events just narrated, and noon 
was near ; with evening the Paschal lamb would be eaten, 
and the festival begin. 

“ Where wilt thou that we make ready? ” 

“ Behold, when ye are entered into the city, there shall 
meet you a man bearing a pitcher of water ; follow him into 
the house wherein he goeth. And ye shall say unto the 
good man of the house. The Master saith unto thee, My 
time is at hand ; where is the guest-chamber where I shall 
eat the Passover with my disciples ? And he will show you 
a large upper room furnished : there make ready.” 

In pursuance of these explicit directions, the two de- 
parted and found the water-carrier and his master, as 
described ; and the latter, a disciple whose son, John Mark, 
afterward became prominent in the Christian church, imme- 
diately placed his upper room at their disposal. 

As the afternoon drew on, while Peter, after the regular 
evening sacrifice, was bearing the lamb he had slain from 
the altar court of the Temple to the specially prepared oven, 
the use of which he had secured for the occasion, the Lord 

1 LuJte xxii. 7-53; John xiii. 1-xviii. 12; Acts xx. 35. 


468 


EMMANUEL / 


took leave of his mother and sister, his kind hosts at 
Bethany, and other followers there, with a tenderness and 
sorrow that at first surprised them, and then disquieted 
them not a little. Thoma, too, was much depressed during 
the walk to the Holy City. Loyal as was the son of Salmon 
to his Lord, he could not hide from himself that the events 
of the week thus far had been sadly disappointing. Beyond 
any other of the twelve, except the man of Kerioth, he saw 
the growing alienation of the people ; and more that any 
other, he was troubled by his Lord’s manner and warn- 
ings of coming death. The week which had opened with 
such brilliant promise of immediate triumph seemed draw- 
ing to its close amidst clouds of deepening menace. 

At first Jesus went on before, with eyes cast down and 
clouded face ; and though after a little his gaze was lifted 
to the western sky, and his countenance shone with a light 
more than that of the setting sun, yet its serene and holy 
glow failed to reassure Thoma. Was the Master deliberately 
walking into the power of the enemy? The traditionary 
rules would permit him to eat the Passover at Bethany ; why 
then should he go to Jerusalem at night, when, the people 
being ignorant of his presence, he would be at the mercy 
of the priesthood ? At the crest of Olivet Jesus paused, 
and bestowing scarcely a glance on the more splendid 
portions of the city below, gazed away fixedly toward 
the gardens and villas of the suburb north of it. Thoma’s 
gaze followed his Lord’s, and a shudder passed over him ; 
for, just beyond the north-eastern corner of the second 
wall, his eye caught the outlines of well-known Golgotha, 
the striking, scarped, skull-shaped eminence without the 
northern city gate where criminals were executed. The hill 
was familiar enough ; his dismay at the sight of it sprang 
from his mood, not from any reasonable fear of the place 
itself. From a like cause, when, on entering the eastern 
gate, the vast ramparts of Antonio rose up above him, the 


THE STOIiY OF THE MESSIAH. 


469 


thought of what his father had suffered inside of that 
gloomy structure made his heart sink within him. Was 
some such fearful fate in store for the Master? 

At the Paschal board it was very manifest that if his 
fellow- apostles had been distressed by any such dire mis- 
givings, they had quite forgotten them ; for, unmindful of 
the rebuke to the sons of Zebedee beyond the river, and 
ambitious of recognized claims to primacy in the kingdom 
they were daily expecting to see established, after the 
fashion of the Pharisees they fell to disputing who should 
have the places of honour on the couches, — those nearest 
the Master, who reclined at the extreme end, where all 
would be within his view, and none behind him. 

“ The kings of the Gentiles have lordship over them,” 
said Jesus with gentle patience; “and they that have 
authority over them are called Benefactors. But ye shall 
not be so ; but he that is greater among you, let him 
become as the younger ; and he that is chief, as he that 
doth serve ; for it is more blessed to give than to receive.” 

Former teachings recurred to the minds of the twelve ; 
and quietly, without further debate, they took their places 
on the couches. 

While waiting for the threefold blast of the Temple 
trumpets to announce the setting of the sun, the appearing 
of the first three stars, and the beginning of the feast, 
Jesus, “knowing that the Father had given all things into 
his hands, and that he came forth from God,” and was 
about to return to God, rose from his place, and proceeded 
to enforce yet more strongly the moral elevation and real 
beauty of lowliness of heart and self-forgetful service. 
Laying aside his outer garments, and girding his tunic 
around him with a towel, after the fashion of a slave, he 
went from couch to couch with a basin of water, washing 
the feet of the disciples, and wiping them with the towel 
with which he was girded. The act, though one that was 


470 


EMMANUEL ; 


to become more significant and more memorable the more 
the Lord’s supreme station was recognized, was regarded 
by the twelve at the time with astonishment and shame. 

“Lord, dost thou wash my feet?” exclaimed the im- 
pulsive Peter when Jesus came to him. 

“What I do thou knowest not now; but thou shalt 
understand hereafter.” 

Peter rose to a sitting posture. 

“ Thou shalt never wash my feet.” Was the Master to 
perform a slave’s office for him ? 

“ If I wash thee not, thou hast no part with me,” was 
the grave rejoinder. 

“ Lord, not my feet only, but also my hands and my 
head.” 

“He that is bathed,” Jesus returned, “ needeth not 
save to wash his feet, but is clean every whit : and ye are 
clean, but not all.” 

Judah of Kerioth understood, he thought, this last allu- 
sion ; Jesus knew of his pilferings. He found the washing 
of his feet by his Lord a very trying experience. He 
could not see Jesus bending over him, nor meet his grave, 
sorrowful look, without a stirring of conscience within 
him ; yet he would not give way to feelings of compunc- 
tion. The more effectually to quell such troublesome 
sensations, he assured himself scornfully that this ser- 
vile act was only another proof of the spuriousness of 
Jesus’ claims to Messiahship. A fine King this, truly ! 

“ Know ye what 1 have done to you?” said the Lord, 
resuming his place. “ Ye call me Master and Lord : and 
ye say well ; for so I am. If I then, the Lord and the 
Master, have washed your feet, ye also ought to wash 
one another’s feet. For I have given you an example, 
that ye also should do as I have done to you. Verily, 
verily j I say unto you, A servant is not greater than his 
Lord ; neither one that is sent greater than he that sent 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


471 


him. If ye know these things, blessed are ye if ye do 
them. I speak not of you all : I know whom I have 
chosen : but that the Scripture may be fulfilled, He that 
eateth my bread lifted up his heel against me. From 
henceforth I tell you before it come to pass, that, when it 
is come to pass, ye may believe that I am he. Verily, 
verily, I say unto you. He that receiveth whomsoever I 
send receiveth me ; and he that receiveth me receiveth Him 
that sent me.” 

The anticipated blasts of the silver trumpets in the 
Temple broke in upon the Master’s discourse, and the 
Paschal supper began. 

“ With desire,” said Jesus, “ I have desired to eat this 
Passover with you before I suffer : for I say unto you, I 
shall not eat it, until it be fulfilled in the kingdom of 
God. 

“ Blessed be Thou, O Lord our God, Thou King of the 
world, who created the fruit of the vine,” he continued, 
reciting the usual formula as he took the preliminary cup 
of wine and water. Then to the disciples, “ Take this, 
and divide it among yourselves : for I say unto you, I 
shall not drink from henceforth of the fruit of the vine, 
until the kingdom of God shall come.” 

The customary question, ‘‘What mean ye by this ser^ 
vice ? ” no boy being present, was asked by John, the 
youngest of the company, and answered in the prescribed 
language by Andrew, the eldest. Toward the close of the 
supper, after the chanting of the first part of the great 
hallelujah, the disciples were startled by an unlooked-for 
disclosure. 

“ Verily I say unto you, that one of you shall betray 
me.” 

The words were those of Jesus, and, though calm, were 
deeply pathetic. A look of dismay went around the 
table. 


472 


EMMANUEL ; 


“ Is it I, Lord? ” asked one after another. 

Jesus, buried in painful reflections, did not reply. 

Peter motioned to John, who reclined next to the Master, 
and was known to be especially dear to him, and whis- 
pered, “ Tell us who it is of whom he speaketh.” 

“Lord, who is it?” John asked, leaning back till his 
head rested on Jesus’ breast, and his eyes looking upward 
met those of his Master. 

“ He it is,” was the sorrowful reply, “ for whom I shall 
dip the sop, and give it to him.” 

It was the custom for the leader of the feast to dip 
pieces of bread into the dish of dates, raisins, and other 
fruits, and distribute them among the various persons 
present. Ordinarily the act, regarded as one of favour 
and special courtesy, attracted but little attention ; but 
when, after this introduction, Jesus arose and took the 
sop to Judah of Kerioth, the eyes of all present naturally 
followed, and Judah felt himself the object of the amazed 
and indignant regard of his comrades. 

“The Son of man goeth,” continued Jesus, “even as 
it is written of him : but woe unto that man through whom 
the Son of man is betrayed ! good were it for that man if 
he had not been born.” 

“Is it I, Rabbi?” asked Judah, with feigned surprise 
and incredulity. 

“ Thou hast said. That thou doest, do quickly.” 

Nothing loath, the man left his place, and went out into 
the night : his former comrades were dangerous companions 
for him now. 

“The Nazarene then knoweth my plans,” he muttered, 
as he hurried through the streets, the evil influence now 
dominating him completely ; “ some one hath betrayed me 
to him, and he thinketh to fright me from my purpose by 
exposing me to his dupes. He shall see whether the son of 
Simon, the man of Kerioth, will so easily forget his wrongs.” 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


473 


The eleven were puzzled by Jesus’ command to Judah. 
Apparently the Master still placed confidence in the man, 
for he had sent him out on some errand, — doubtless to 
effect some necessary purchase, or to make a gift to the 
poor who flocked that night to the Temple. 

“ Now is the Son of Man glorified,” said Jesus, break- 
ing in upon their reasonings when the door had closed be- 
hind the traitor, “ and God is glorified in him ; and God 
shall glorify him in himself, and straightway shall he 
glorify him.” 

Then, taking two of the elements of the feast, he pro- 
ceeded to give them a new significance, and a new sanctity. 
Selecting first a cake of the unleavened bread, and giving 
thanks to God, he broke it and distributed the fragments 
among the eleven. 

“ This is my body, which is broken for you,” he said 
solemnly : “ this do in remembrance of me.” 

Taking next a cup of wine, and returning thanks again, 
he passed it also to the disciples, with the words, “ This 
cup is the new covenant in my blood, even that which is 
poured out for you : this do, as oft as ye drink it, in 
remembrance of me. 

“ Little children,” he went on, when this simple rite, 
afterwards so affectionately cherished and so frequently 
celebrated, was over, “yet a little while I am with you. 
Ye shall seek me : and as I said unto the Jews, Whither I 
go, ye cannot come ; so now I say unto you. A new com- 
mandment I give unto you, that ye love one another ; even 
as I have loved you, that ye also love one another. By 
this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have 
love one to another.” 

“ Lord, whither goest thou? ” broke in Peter. 

“ Whither I go, thou canst not follow me now ; but thou 
shalt follow afterwards.” 

“ Why cannot I follow thee now?” 


474 


EMMANUEL ; 


“All ye shall be offended in me this night: for it is 
written, I will smite the shepherd, and the sheep shall be 
scattered abroad. But after I am raised up, I will go 
before you into Galilee.” 

“ Although all shall be offended,” protested Peter, “ yet 
will not I. I will lay down my life for thee.” 

“ Simon, Simon, behold Satan asked to have you, that 
he might sift you as wheat : but I made supplication for 
thee, that thy faith fail not : and do thou, when once thou 
hast turned again, stablish thy brethren. Wilt thou lay 
down thy life for me? Verily I say unto thee, that thou 
to-day, this night, before the cock crow twice, shalt deny 
me thrice.” 

“ Even if I must die with thee,” was the vehement re- 
joinder, “ yet will I not deny thee.” 

And with like words the other disciples assured Jesus 
of their unlimited devotion. He looked around upon them 
with a smile of mingled sadness and affection, and said no 
more about it. 

“ When I sent you forth without purse, and wallet, and 
shoes,” he asked presently, “ lacked ye anything? ” 

“ Nothing.” 

“ But now he that hath a purse,” referring to the 
changed relations in which they were to stand henceforth 
to even their own countrymen, “ let him take it, and like- 
wise a wallet ; and he that hath none, let him sell his cloak, 
and buy a sword. For I say unto you, that this which 
is written must be fulfilled in me. And he was reckoned 
with transgressors: for that which concerneth me hath 
fulfilment.” 

“ Lord, behold, here are two swords.” 

“ It is enough,” said Jesus, smiling again a little sadly. 

They had misunderstood again. Instead of a simple 
warning that the world would hereafter be hostile to them, 
as it had been to their Master, they thought they heard in 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


475 


his words about the swords a call to battle, an announce- 
ment that now the strife of an earthly kingdom of heaven 
was to begin. But the day of enlightenment was near. 

“ Let not your heart be troubled,” he went on, perceiving 
how perplexity and anxiety had taken possession of them ; 
“ believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father’s 
house are many mansions ; if it were not so, I would have 
told you ; for I go to prepare a place for you. And if I 
go and prepare a place for you, I come again, and will re- 
ceive you unto myself ; that where I am, there ye may be 
also. And whither I go, ye know the way.” 

“ Lord,” interposed Thoma, in utmost bewilderment, 
“ we know not whither thou goest ; how know we the way ? ” 

To this query of Thoma, as to that of Peter before it, 
Jesus did not give the explicit answer desired. It was no 
part of his plan to make the ways of God so easy of com- 
prehension, even were such a thing possible, as to save his 
followers from the discipline of faith. 

“ I am the way, and the truth, and the life,” he said, — 
words which, if they gave little light then, have not failed 
to shed it abundantly in all the generations since. “ No 
man cometh unto the Father but by me. If ye had known 
me, ye would have known my Father also ; from hence- 
forth ye know Him, and have seen Him.” 

One at least of the eleven was more puzzled now than 
before. Philip of Bethsaida had many good qualities of a 
practical character ; but his intellectual endowment was 
below that of most of his fellows. 

“Lord,” he broke in, “show us the Father, and it 
sufficeth us.” 

“ Have I been so long time with you, and dost thou not 
know me, Philip? He that hath seen me hath seen the 
Father; how sayest thou. Show us the Father? Believest 
thou not that I am in the Father, and the Father in me? 
The words that I say unto you I speak not from myself ; 


476 


EMMANUEL ; 


but the Father abiding in me doeth His works. Believe 
me that I am in the Father, and the Father in me : or else 
believe me for the very works’ sake. Verily, verily, I say 
unto you. He that believeth on me, the works that I do, 
shall he do also ; and greater works than these shall he do, 
because I go unto the Father. ... I will not leave 
you desolate : I come unto you. Yet a little while and the 
world beholdeth me no more ; but ye behold me : because 
I live, ye shall live also. In that day ye shall know that I 
am in my Father, and ye in me, and I in you. He that hath 
my commandments, and keepeth them, he it is that loveth 
me : and he that loveth me shall be loved of my Father, 
and I will love him, and will manifest myself unto him.” 

Judah, son of Alphaeus-Clopas, was the next to voice the 
perplexity and wonder of the company. 

“ Lord, how is it come to pass that thou wilt manifest 
thyself unto us, and not unto the world? ” 

Were the Rabbis right in teaching that the Messiah would 
either be hidden for a time before his triumph, or tempo- 
rarily suffer eclipse as to his power ? 

“ If a man love me,” said Jesus in reply, “ he will keep 
my word : and my Father will love him, and we will come 
unto him, and make our abode with him. He that loveth 
me not keepeth not my words : and the word which ye hear 
is not mine, but the Father’s who sent me. . . . Peace 

I leave with you ; my peace I give unto you : not as the 
world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be 
troubled, neither let it be fearful. Ye heard how I said to 
you, I go away, and I come unto you. If ye loved me, ye 
would have rejoiced, because I go unto the Father : for the 
Father is greater than I. And now I have told you before 
it come to pass, that, when it is come to pass, ye may 
believe. I will no more speak much with you, for the 
prince of the world cometh : and he hath nothing in me ; 
but that the world may know that I love the Father, and 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


477 


as the Father gave me commandment, even so I do. Arise, 
let us go hence.” 

The eleven forthwith made preparations for departure ; 
but before these were completed, the Lord, seemingly for- 
getting his purpose, went on with his discourse. 

“ I am the true vine,” he said earnestly and with insist- 
ence, “ and my Father is the husbandman. Every branch 
in me that beareth not fruit. He taketh it away : and every 
branch that beareth fruit. He cleanseth it, that it may 
bear more fruit. Already ye are clean because of the 
word which I have spoken unto you. Abide in me, and 
I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, 
except it abide in the vine ; so neither can ye, except 
ye abide in me. . . . Herein is my Father glori- 

fied, that ye bear much fruit ; and so shall ye be my 
disciples. Even as the Father hath loved me, I also 
have loved you ; abide ye in my love. If ye keep my 
commandments, ye shall abide in my love ; even as I 
have kept my Father’s commandments, and abide in His 
love. These things have I spoken unto 3^011, that my joy 
may be in you, and that your joy may be full. This is my 
commandment, that ye love one another, even as I have 
loved you. Greater love hath no man than this, that a 
man lay down his life for his friends.” 

Jesus then pointed out that, in the keeping of his supreme 
injunction, they were to be henceforth his friends, rather 
than his servants ; and that this high station was theirs 
solely through his grace. He warned them once more that 
from the world they, like their Lord, would receive, not 
love, but hate. But he consoled them with the assurance 
that upon his departure he would send them the Comforter, 
“ the Spirit of truth, which proceedeth from the Father,” 
to aid them in their witness for him, — One who would 
convict the world in respect of sin, and of righteousness, 
and of judgment. 


478 


EMMANUEL ; 


“I have 3'et many things to say unto you,’^ he said, 
“but ye cannot bear them now. Howbeit when He, the 
Spirit of truth, is come, He shall guide you into all the 
truth : . . . He shall declare unto you the things that 

are to come. He shall glorify me ; for He shall take of 
mine, and shall declare it unto you. ... A little 
while, and ye behold me no more ; and again a little while, 
and ye shall see me.” 

There was so much earnestness and grave tenderness in 
the Master’s voice that, though the eleven wondered greatly 
over the closing words, and a few queried quietly among 
themselves about them, yet no one felt read^^ to voice the 
common inquiry in a question to the Lord himself. Soon 
the latter came to their relief. 

“ Do ye inquire among yourselves,” he said, “ concern- 
ing this that I said, A little while, and ye behold me not, 
and again a little while, and ye shall see me? Verily, 
verily, I say unto you, that ye shall weep aud lament, but 
the world shall rejoice : ye shall be sorrowful, but your 
sorrow shall be turned into joy. . . . The hour cometh 

when I shall no more speak unto you in dark sayings, but 
shall tell you plainly of the Father. In that day ye shall 
ask in my name : and I say not unto you, that I will pray 
the Father for you ; for the Father Himself loveth you, 
because ye have loved me, and have believed that I came 
forth from the Father. I came out from the Father, aud 
am come into the world : again, I leave the world and go 
unto the Father.” 

These words seemed so explicit that, for the moment, 
the disciples imagined that they understood them, — an 
idea in a few hours completely shattered by the rude blows 
of swiftly moving events. 

“ Lo, now speakest thou plainly,” exclaimed one of 
them, “ and speakest no dark saying. Now know we that 
thou knowest all things, and needest not that any man 


THE STORY OF THE MESSTAIL 


479 


should ask thee : by this we believe that thou earnest forth 
from God.” 

“Do ye now believe?” was the troubled rejoinder. 
“Behold the hour cometh, yea, is come, that ye shall be 
scattered, every man to his own, and shall leave me alone : 
and yet I am not alone, because the Father is with me. 
These things have I spoken unto you, that in me ye may 
have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation ; but 
be of good cheer ; I have overcome the world.” 

As he spoke, the Master rose from the couch, and his 
followers supposed that he was about to take his depart- 
ure ; instead, he lifted his eyes toward heaven, and uttered 
an intercessory prayer, — a prayer affecting his listeners 
at the time with mingled awe, pathos, and dread, and in 
after years recurring to them time and again with enlight- 
enment, consolation, and stimulus. 

“Father, the hour is come; glorify Thy Son, that the 
Son may glorify Thee : even as Thou gavest him authority 
over all flesh, that whatsoever Thou hast given him, to them 
he should give eternal life. And this is life eternal, that 
they should know Thee the only true God, and him whom 
Thou didst send, even Jesus Christ. I glorified Thee on 
the earth, having accomplished the work which Thou hast 
given me to do. And now, O, Father, glorify Thou me 
with Thine own self with the glory which I had with Thee 
before the world was. I manifested Thy name unto the 
men whom Thou gavest me out of the world : Thine they 
were, and Thou gavest them to me ; and they have kept 
Thy word. 

“ I pray for them,” the Lord went on : “ I pray not for 
the world, but for those whom Thou hast given me ; for 
they are Thine. . . . And I am no more in the world, 

and these are in the world, and I come to Thee. Holy 
Father, keep them in Thy name which Thou hast given me, 
that they may be one, even as we are.” 


480 


EMMANUEL ; 


Then the Master prayed that they might be kept from 
the evil, and be sanctified through the truth ; and that those 
afterward believing on him through them, might likewise 
be kept and sanctified and all made one in him and the 
Father ; that so the world might believe that God had sent 
him. 

“ Father,” he exclaimed, as he closed his prayer, ‘ ‘ those 
whom Thou hast given me, I desire that, where I am, they 
also may be with me ; that they may behold my glory, 
which Thou hast given me : for Thou lovedst me before the 
foundation of the world. O righteous Father, the world 
knew Thee not, but I knew Thee ; and these knew that 
Thou didst send me ; and I made known unto them Thy 
name, and will make it known ; that the love wherewdth 
Thou lovedst me may be in them, and I in them.” 

Silently then, with firm purpose and patient fortitude, a 
holy light showing in his eyes, Jesus went out to do the 
will of Him who had sent him. The city streets were very 
quiet as yet ; only rarely was a guest, returning to his 
lodging place, encountered ; for in most cases the Paschal 
supper had not yet come to a close, nor had the festive 
throngs yet begun to flock into the Temple, as they would 
do about midnight. The pavements, usually noisy with 
the clatter of many feet, alike of men and animals, were 
strangely silent ; the steps of the Lord and his followers 
echoed far up and down the narrow thoroughfare ; while 
the occasional sound of the hallelujah chant, coming in 
muffled tones through some closed doorway, only seemed to 
make the outer stillness more manifest and unnatural. In- 
stinctively the eleven drew nearer together, looked with 
some anxiety up the cross streets, peered into the deep 
shadows on the south side of the way, and watched uneasily 
the strange bearing of the Master who, with head bowed 
and eyes fixed on the stones, walked on before. 

When the Antonio castle, its walls in the moonlight 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


481 


appearing heavier and more towering than ever, was past, 
and the city gate, open the night through during the feast, 
was left behind, there was a momentary feeling of relief ; 
for the light of the full moon, flooding the valley below, 
gave a sense of freedom and safety. But soon the blanched 
face of Jesus brought fear again to the heart of one 
troubled disciple. Thoma found himself shuddering with 
an undefinable horror ; and, on passing down into the 
ravine, and across the dry, stony bed of the Kedron, he 
drew his outer cloak closely around him, as though by warm- 
ing his body to still the quaking of his heart. How deep 
were the shadows cast by the Paschal moon, riding so high 
in the zenith ; who could tell what might be hidden beneath 
these great olives and figs? Had they but arms, it would 
be easy to keep a stout heart ; but unarmed — for what 
were two swords among a dozen men ? — they would be 
helpless before their foes, should such appear. None did 
appear, however ; and, without menace or challenge, they 
gained a certain garden and olive-orchard known as Geth- 
semane. It was surrounded by a low wall, and was some- 
what secluded ; in consequence of which, and of the fact 
that it belonged to a friend, it had been much frequented 
by Jesus wdien at the Holy City. 

Here the Master selected Peter and the sons of Zebedee 
to be again his more immediate companions. 

“ Sit ye here, while I go yonder and pray,” he said to 
the others. 

While they wrapped themselves in their mantles to shut 
out the cool night air, and disposed themselves on the 
ground as comfortably as possible, Jesus retired to a short 
distance with the chosen three. For a time he sat with 
them on the ground, lost in painful revery. 

“ My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death,” he 
said heavily at length, the tide of feeling becoming too 
great for repression: “abide ye here, and watch.” 


482 


EMMANUEL ; 


He went on a little farther, and prostrated himself, with 
face to the ground. 

“O my Father,” was his broken and repeated cry, — 
“ O my Father, all things are possible unto Thee ; if it be 
possible, let this cup pass away from me : nevertheless, not 
as I will, but as Thou wilt.” 

An hour passed, — an hour' of painful silences and ag- 
onized prayer ; then Jesus rose from his knees, and returned 
to the three watchers, only to find them fast asleep. The 
strain on mind and heart during the day and the evening, 
especially through their sympathy with their Lord in a 
trouble which was beyond their comprehension, and to 
mend which they could do nothing, combined with enforced 
inaction to produce a drowsiness to which they fell a prey 
without intending it. 

“Simon, sleepest thou?” said Jesus, in gentle reproof 
of a disciple who so shortly before had vaunted his great 
devotion. “ Couldest thou not watch one hour? Watch 
and pray, that ye enter not into temptation : the spirit 
indeed is willing, but the fiesh is weak.” 

Returning to his former retreat, the Master seated him- 
self in the shadow, and looked out fixedly through the 
moonlit garden and the silvery leaved olives, and across to 
the city walls and the Temple, where the noise of the pil- 
grims gathering for the midnight festivities began to be 
heard. What were the thoughts of the Redeemer of men 
as he looked over the fair scene, we shall not know on 
earth ; certainly they were sombre and distressing in the 
extreme. Every event in that dark tragedy about to 
begin was painfully clear to him ; with his strong imagina- 
tion and fine sensibility, it may well have been at once as 
dreadful in anticipation as in reality, and far more dreadful 
in reality than to most men. The fearlessness of Jesus of 
Nazareth had nothing in common with that insensibility 
through obtuseness or coarseness of fibre, physical or spir- 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


483 


itiial, which so often passes for true courage. Nor is every 
man who has braved death without blenching in the posi- 
tion of the Saviour ; for death by the agencies of nature, or 
death by the hand of foes, is quite another thing from the 
cruellest and most shameful of deaths, inflicted by those for 
whose good one has lived and laboured. The greatness of 
the heart of Jesus, as well as the fineness of his organism, 
made the ordeal before him truly dreadful. But not even 
thus do we perceive fully the horror and darkness then in 
the soul of the Redeemer. We strain our eyes in vain to 
penetrate the mystery indicated by the prophet centuries 
before in the words, “ The chastisement of our peace was 
upon him ; and with his stripes we are healed. . . . And 

the Lord hath laid upon him the iniquity of us all.” We 
know not what it was for a sinless one to bear the guilt of 
a fallen race ; but in that midnight hour Jesus knew. To 
him the burden was terribly real. His hands were desper- 
ately clenched ; his limbs grew rigid, and then writhed with 
anguish ; and the very blood, starting through the pores of 
the skin, stood in beads on his forehead, and fell thence to 
the ground. 

“ O my Father,” he broke forth, casting himself down 
again, “ all things are possible unto Thee ; if it be possible, 
let this cup pass away from me ; nevertheless, not as I will, 
but as Thou wilt.” 

Then, with haggard face and crimsoned brow, Jesus 
returned the second time to the three apostles ; he found 
them once more sleeping ; the flesh was indeed weak. 
Tliey awoke at his approach, and looked up penitently ; 
and without rebuke, but with a faint smile more pathetic 
than tears, the Master went back to his lonely struggle. 
But the crisis now was over ; and here, as elsewhere, Jesus 
was master. Then an angel, visible to him only, appeared, 
and strengthened him with heavenly counsel. The Lord 
cast himself down a third time in prayer. 


484 


EMMANUEL ; 


“ O my Father,” he cried in anguish, though his voice 
now was firm and unbroken, “ if this cannot pass away, 
except I drink it. Thy will be done.” 

Meanwhile Thoma, wrapped in his cloak, found it impos- 
sible to sleep. In vain he assured himself that his mis- 
givings were unreasonable ; in vain he reflected that, 
should enemies come out against them from the city, it 
would be easy for their small party to escape in the dense 
shadow of the olive-trees, and, following some secluded 
ravine, baffle the pursuit of their foes ; his fears were too 
undefined and elusive to be met by argument. 

Two hours passed, and still, unlike his comrades, he 
could not sleep. Then his attention was arrested, and his 
thoughts diverted, by the sight of lights over at the city 
gate. Strange ! why did the people come out at the gate 
instead of gathering in the Temple ? and why should men 
going into the country carry torches under a Paschal 
moon ? What numbers there were too ! he said to himself, 
watching them with the languid interest of a man in pain. 
Suddenly his interest became keen enough ; and he sprang 
to his. feet, and rushed to the wall of the garden, intently 
gazing toward the advancing crowd. Had they come out 
to apprehend the Master? The clank of arms in the still 
night air, the glinting of torchlight and moonlight on 
helmet, javelin, and cuirass, justified his worst fears, and 
waking one of his fellows, to whom he pointed out the 
armed mob, he hastened back into the garden to acquaint 
Jesus with his danger. 

Simon and his two companions he found fast asleep ; but 
he waked them not. On the contrary, he paused involun- 
tarily ; for there, beside the sleeping men, stood the Mas- 
ter, — but how changed ! He seemed to have aged several 
years in th6 two hours past, so worn and haggard was his 
face as the bright moonlight revealed it. And the blood 
upon it ! What had caused that ? And how strangely he 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


485 


stood ! With hands clasped lightly before him, and with 
quiet, resolute look, he seemed to be actually awaiting 
the coming of the motley crowd of soldiers, rabble, and 
rulers, now plainly visible streaming across the bed of the 
Kedron a little below the garden. To his Lord, thus lofty 
and firm of mien, Thoma had no advice to offer ; plainly 
Jesus knew his danger, and knew also what was best to 
be done. Perhaps he would pass through the mob un- 
harmed, as he had done at Nazareth ; perhaps something 
more wonderful was to happen. 

“ Sleep on now and take your rest,” said Jesus with 
gentle irony, as the three awoke : “ behold, the hour is at 
hand, and the Son of man is betrayed into the hands of 
sinners.” Then, as the mob drew near the garden, and 
the three became aware of its presence, “ Arise, let us be 
going : behold, he is at hand that betrayeth me.” 

It was true ; scarcely had Jesus appeared at the gate, 
when Judah of Kerioth stepped forth from the mob. The 
man had little reason to be proud of his companions. 
Hanan, now the master-spirit in the Sanhedrist cabal, had 
gathered, not only his special and most trusty followers, 
including the officers of the Temple, but the rabble of the 
city also, — a rabble always ready for excitement and 
deeds of violence, already incensed against Jesus for dis- 
appointing their hopes of a new throne of David, and now 
wrought up to the pitch of fanatical opposition by the 
words of the wily Sadducasan hierarch, — and had des- 
patched them all to seize the defenceless Jesus. He had 
even succeeded, in addition, by representations of the 
seditious character of the man he wished to capture, in 
inducing the Procurator to send with the mob a cohort of 
soldiers from the Antonio under the command of their 
tribune, Sergius. 

“ Hail, Rabbi,” said Judah, stepping up to his Master 


486 


EMMANUEL ; 


with the haste in wickedness of a man to whom it is 
new. 

“ Comrade, that for which thou art come ” — 

The Lord was interrupted by a kiss from the traitor, the 
prearranged sign between him and his confederates. 

“Judah,’' said Jesus sternly, “ betrayest thou the Son 
of man with a kiss? ” 

The sign had been given ; yet the mob and its leaders 
showed no disposition to seize their prey. There was a 
majesty, and a look as of one at once fearless and sinless, 
about their prospective victim which disconcerted them. 

“ Whom seek ye?” asked the former quietly. 

“Jesus of Nazareth.” 

“ I am he,” stepping forward. 

There was a commotion instantly, but not that of captors 
seizing the object of pursuit. The priests and Pharisees 
in the front ranks, none of them desiring to be too near a 
man who, though hated, seemed to have holiness written 
on his crimsoned brow, stepped back hastily as he came 
forward ; and, crowding upon those behind, stumbled and 
fell to the ground, so that for the moment there was gen- 
eral confusion. The soldiers in the rear stood firm, how- 
ever, their tribune, after a momentary apprehensive glance 
at Jesus, berating the mob and its leaders roundly for 
their cowardice. 

“Whom seek ye?” asked the Master again, with his 
former composure. 

“Jesus of Nazareth.” 

“ I told you that I am he t if therefore ye seek me, let 
these go their way,” looking toward the disciples. 

A few of the leaders then advanced, — though none too 
confidently, — when the character of the scene was changed 
in an instant by the action of Peter. Was Jesus then to 
be seized without the striking of a blow ? 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


48T 


“ Lord,” he cried excitedly, “ shall we smite with the 
sword ? ” 

Without waiting for reply, he struck out vigorously at 
one of the would-be captors. The man, Malchus by name, 
a servant of the High Priest, parried the blow in part, yet 
not so effectually but that it severed his ear from his head. 
Jesus at once placed himself between the two, and touch- 
ing the wound, healed it, saying to the foes nearest by, 
in extenuation of the act of his follower, “Suffer ye 
thus far. 

“ Put up again thy sword into its place,” to the baffled 
and bewildered Peter, “ for all they that take the sword shall 
perish with the sword. Or thinkest thou that I cannot 
beseech my Father, and He shall even now send me more 
than twelve legions of angels? How then should the 
Scriptures be fulfilled, that thus it must be? the cup which 
the Father hath given me, shall I not drink it? ” 

The blow of Peter ended all hesitation among the Lord’s 
foes ; this was something they could understand, and, 
indeed, had expected. They swarmed about Jesus in- 
stantly, at once putting the amazed and in the main 
. unarmed disciples to flight, and making escape henceforth 
out of the question. 

“ Are ye come out as against a robber, with swords and 
staves to seize me ? ” said Jesus, as they bound his hands 
with a rope. “ I sat daily in the Temple teaching, and ye 
took me not : but this is your hour, and the power of 
darkness : this is done that the Scriptures might be ful- 
filled.” 

A disciple, not one of the twelve, came near being led 
away with his Lord. The young man John Mark, son of 
the Lord’s host of that evening, had been awakened from 
sleep by the coming of Judah and the rabble to his house 
in search of Jesus. When the crowd turned away toward 
the gate, surmising its destination, he followed, drawing 


488 


EMMANUEL ; 


only asindon, or linen sheet, about him in the haste of his 
departure. After the Master had been taken he was dis- 
covered in the rear, and seized as a disciple of the Naza- 
rene ; but by leaving the sindon in the hands of the rabble, 
he succeeded in making his escape, though naked. For 
Jesus there was to be no escape, the priests and Pharisees, 
for once of one mind, led him away to judges whose deci- 
sion was a matter of no doubt whatever. 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH, 


489 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

THE KING ON TRIAL. ^ 

They bound thy temples with the twisted thorn; 

Thy bruised feet went languid on with pain; 

The blood from all thy flesh, with scourges torn. 

Deepened thy robe of mocker’s crimson grain : 

Whose native vesture bright 
Was the unapproached light, 

The sandal of whose foot, the rapid hurricane. 

Milmax. 

S HORTLY after midnight it began to be reported among 
the multitudes in the Temple courts and the city 
streets that Jesus of Nazareth, the prophet of 
Galilee, had been taken prisoner by the rulers. He had 
been seen, surrounded by his captors, and followed by a 
Roman guard, passing up to the house of Hanan ; and 
already, it wRs said, messengers were hurrying about sum- 
moning the chief priests. Rabbis, and, elders to a meeting 
of the Sanhedrin at daybreak. Some few who heard the 
news were troubled and grieved by it ; others were out- 
spoken in their expressions of satisfaction, — this Nazarene 
had grossly deceived them, they maintained, — while the 
greater number were merely interested in an idle way, 
caring now for the fate of Jesus only in so far as it might 
afford them a few hours’ diversion. 

It was by no error that Jesus was taken to the house of 
Hanan, son of Seth, once High Priest, rather than to that 
of his son-in-law Caiphah ; for Hanan, not the then High 
Priest, was the real leader of the Sadducaean party, and 
especially of the priestly cabal dominating it. During the 
earlier part of the Lord’s ministry these priestly Sadducees 


i Matt. xxvi. 57-xxvii. 30; Luke xxiii. 4-12; John xviii. 12-xix. 16. 


490 


EMMANUEL ; 


had regarded him with indifference, supposing the trouble 
between him and the Pharisees to be merely a Rabbinical 
quarrel, — a matter beneath their notice. But with the 
growth of the fame of Jesus, they perceived the possible 
political consequences ; and fears for the permanence of 
their own comfortable positions becoming excited, they 
joined at length with their hereditary opponents, the 
Pharisees, in plotting the overthrow of the dangerous 
Teacher. Beginning at Magdala, just after the feeding 
of the four thousand, their antagonism steadily increased, 
especially after the raising of Lazarus, till with the second 
purification of the Temple — at once a severe public rebuke 
to them and a very considerable contravention of their un- 
lawful gains — it reached the pitch of fury, quite equalling 
that of the Pharisaic leaders themselves. 

To Hanan, therefore, chief of the Sadducees, and, in the 
extreme decrepitude of Simon son of Hillel, virtually Nasi 
of the Sanhedrin, when the capture had been made, the 
divine Prisoner was brought. The hierarch eyed his prey 
with evil satisfaction, and proceeded to question him ; but 
without avail. Jesus would deign him no reply whatever. 
Thereupon, with look yet more sinister, Hanan sent his 
Prisoner with the motley horde of captors to the neighbour- 
ing palace of the High Priest, himself following very 
shortly. 

When, with the circulation of the tidings of Jesus’ arrest, 
a crowd gathered at the door of this well-known house, it 
was but natural that those disciples who, in bewilderment 
and sudden panic, had fled before the mob, should be 
scattered through it, awaiting with suspense and dread 
the further developments of this fearful night. One of 
them, John, the youngest and best beloved, being distantly 
related to the family of the High Priest, succeeded in gain- 
ing entrance almost in company with his Master. Finding 
himself, notwithstanding his known adherence to Jesus, 


THE STOBY OF THE MESSIAH. 


491 


amicably greeted by the servant at the gate, — a woman, — 
he spoke to her about his friend Simon Peter, and secured 
admittance for the latter also. Peter came in with a show 
of boldness which he was far from feeling, and seated him- 
self with the officers and servants by the fire which, owing 
to the coolness of the night, had been built in the palace 
courtyard. 

“ Art thou also one of his disciples?” asked the maid of 
Peter, not unnaturally. 

Woman, I am not ; I know him not,” was the latter’s 
quick, suspicious reply. 

Simon son of Jonah was not the same man he had been 
in the garden ; his valour and, it seemed, his loyalty had 
left him. Yet that valour had by no means been assumed. 
He would have fought bravely and to the death for the 
Master, had the latter permitted ; but he had yet to acquire 
that finer strength and courage which in inaction can face 
danger undismayed, and without the stimulus of excite- 
ment can meet suffering and death unfalteringly. With- 
out losing his devotion to Jesus he had lost his poise. 
He had been rash an hour before, and had been reproved 
for it ; and in his subsequent perplexity and dismay he had 
lost that command of self which is essential to steadfast- 
ness in the hour of trial. When, consequently, he found 
himself suddenly endangered, as he supposed, in the house 
of the Lord’s arch-enemy, and where perhaps the very man 
he had wounded would confront him, he took counsel, not 
of truth and loyalty, but of fear. To escape further ques- 
tioning, he left the fire, and retired to the arched passage- 
way connecting with the street. In a distant court-yard 
sounded the crowing of a cock ; but Simon heeded it not. 

A lie, however, cannot stand alone ; it must have com- 
pany. Not very long afterward, in hope of hearing news 
of Jesus, who had been taken into the Sanhedrin hall in 
the palace proper, he drew near a group of servants en- 


492 


EMMANUEL ; 


gaged in conversation. Immediately one of them, again a 
woman, called attention to him. 

“ This man also was with Jesus the Nazarene.” 

All eyes were fixed on Peter. 

“ Thou also art one of them,” said one of the men sharply. 

“ Man, I am not : I know not the man,” returned Simon 
with an oath, now in abject fear of discovery. 

The erring disciple moved away again, yet not so quickly 
but that he heard certain sneering remarks, showing him 
that he was disbelieved and despised by these slaves and 
servitors of a godless ecclesiastic. 

An hour more passed away, — an hour of bitter mortifi- 
cation and self-contempt to Peter, during which vainly did 
he endeavour to quiet his conscience with the reflection 
that concealment of his relationship to his Lord was, under 
the circumstances, a sad necessity, a choice of the lesser 
of two evils ; and still there was no news as to the Mas- 
ter’s fate. Growing reckless in his mental distress, he 
once more went to the fire, and at the first opportunity en- 
gaged in conversation with those seated around it, hoping 
to learn what was going on in the hall, without disclosing 
the ground of his interest. It was a vain hope. 

“ Of a truth,” broke in one of the men, “ this man also 
was with him ; for he is a Galilaean.” 

“ Thou also art one of them,” declared a second confi- 
dently ; “for thy speech betrayeth thee.” 

“ Did not I see thee in the garden with him? ” demanded 
a third, whom to Peter’s utter consternation he recognized 
as a companion (in fact a relative) of that Malchus whose 
ear he had cut off. 

“ Man, I know not what thou sayest,” he protested with 
oaths and cursing. “ I know not this man of whom ye 
speak.” 

Fortunately for Peter’s safety, though to his extreme 
humiliation and sorrow, a company of men crossed the 


THE STOliY OF THE MESSIAH. 


493 


court just then, and toward them all eyes were directed, 
lo the dismay and anguish of the recreant disciple, his 
Master, led by a rope bound around his wrists, was going 
by, with only rude and insolent officers for companions. 
As he passed, the Lord turned and looked at Peter with 

such sorrow and sad tenderness that the latter knew 

and the knowledge seemed to burn its way into his heart, 
— that Jesus had overheard his loud and profane denials, 
and had forgiven them. The shrill note of a cock, rising 
that moment on the still night air, recalled the disbelieved 
and repudiated prediction of the supper table, — and now 
the triple denial of his beloved Lord was accomplished ! It 
was too much ; his heart broken with grief, Simon slipped 
out at the gate, wrapped his tallith about his head, and in 
the deep shadow of a neighbouring building wept bitter 
tears, — the contrite tears which God will not despise, the 
tears that water the soil of the soul and quicken the growth 
of every good thing therein. 

In the palace, meantime, the examination of Jesus before 
the High Priest and his father-in-law had not progressed as 
prosperously as these zealous defenders of national well- 
being desired. At break of day the Sanhedrin would con- 
vene ; and, while there was no doubt that a large majority 
in that body were ready to vote for the execution of the 
intractable and dangerous Teacher, yet there must be some 
specific charges against the man upon which to base such 
a sentence ; and charges of a grave nature, for which even 
a show of support could be found, notwithstanding the 
publicity of the career of “ the Nazarene,” it proved singu- 
larly and exasperatingly difficult to construct. The priests 
and Rabbis of Israel, the religious rulers and teachers of 
the nation, took pains to let it be understood among those 
who might become witnesses against the Prisoner, that 
their testimony would not be sifted at all unpleasantly, and 
that the more telling it was against the accused, the more 


494 


EMMANUEL ; 


interesting it would be to those in power ; yet, even with 
this stimulus, the witnesses did not present charges that 
seemed formidable in the strong lights and deep shadows 
of that momentous hour. Moreover, even the testimony 
offered was found to be most annoyingly self -contradictory. 
The truth was, that, while there had been many utterances 
of Jesus which, with a little twisting, would have constituted 
sufficient ground of accusation before a tribunal eager to 
convict, those utterances had generally been beyond the 
comprehension, and so beyond the ready retention, of men 
willing thus to pervert them. Nor did questioning the 
Prisoner afford more hope of a successful issue to the 
priestly-Rabbinical plot. Though in haughty assumption, 
and in brutal contempt for the rights of those opposed to 
him, few among the mercenary, unscrupulous priests, who 
in evil days disgraced the pontificate and abused the trusts 
committed to them, ever surpassed Joseph Caiphah, yet the 
man found himself foiled, indeed discomfited, before the 
defenceless Jesus of Nazareth. In disgust with the failure 
of the witnesses, he turned to Jesus, and in his overbearing 
manner demanded a confession as to the number of Jesus’ 
disciples, his purpose in gathering them, and the character 
and aim of his teaching. 

“I have spoken openly to the world,” said Jesus, with 
quiet dignity; “I ever taught in synagogues and in the 
Temple, where all the Jews come together ; and in secret 
spake I nothing. Why askest thou me? ask them that 
have heard me, what I spake unto them : behold these 
know the things which I said.” 

Straightforward, and clearly within the rules of evidence 
and just procedure as was this answer, it brought a frown 
of anger and malignity to the brow of the baffled ruler ; 
seeing which, an officer, glad to show his devotion to an 
unworthy master, struck Jesus in the face with his hand. 

“ Answerest thou the High Priest so?” was the insolent 
demand. 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH 


495 


The ruffianly deed brought no frown to the countenance, 
no fire to the eye, of the Redeemer of men. 

“ If I have spoken evil, bear witness of the evil ; but if 
well, why smitest thou me ? ” 

Further inquiry by Caiphah elicted no response what- 
ever ; under both question and accusation the Lord’s silence 
remained unbroken, his aspect of grave serenity unchanged. 
The gaze of Jesus disconcerted the domineering High Priest 
more than he cared to admit, even to himself ; and, rather 
than continue making demands of one who would reply 
only with a bearing and expression which gave his depraved 
soul an uneasy sensation of being criminal instead of 
judge, he turned again to the witnesses, two of whom after 
much consultation had agreed, as they supposed, on one 
charge that seemed grave. 

“We heard him say,” they declared, “I will destroy 
this Temple that is made with hands, and in three days I 
will build another made without hands.” 

Perverted as the Lord’s real utterance was in this state- 
ment, yet even so, it presented exceedingly slender ground 
for a death sentence, especially as the witnesses were not 
perfectly agreed in regard to it. By this time, the greater 
part of the Sanhedrin, hearing that Jesus was before the 
High Priest, had come in to witness the examination. 
When it became evident that not even under this charge 
would Jesus break his silence, Caiphah lost all patience, 
and abandoned all pretence of judicial inquiry and im- 
partiality. 

How then? Was their plot to fail after all? Were their 
charges to appear manifestly absurd and puerile, — and 
that in the presence of the chief men of the Holy City? 
Must they, for lack of evidence, let this presumptuous, 
intractable Galilaean depart, and thus proclaim at once 
their own unseemly haste and violence and the harmless- 
ness of his teaching? Must they confess the justice of 


496 


EMMANUEL ; 


the imprecations of the Roman tribune as, returning with 
his cohort to the castle, he called down the wrath of all 
his heathem gods upon them, for leading him out of the 
city at midnight to apprehend an unarmed and inoffensive 
man ? The thought was unbearable. 

“ Answerest thou nothing?” cried the pontiff, starting 
to his feet, utterly exasperated ; “ what is this which they 
witness against thee?” 

Jesus answered not ; no protest was there, nor denial, 
nor explanation. Something had to be done ; wickedness, 
however defiant, and however strongly supported by ex- 
ternal advantage, cannot long stand unfalteringly face 
to face with holiness. Caiphah made one last desperate 
throw ; and, to his satisfaction, perhaps his surprise, it was 
successful. 

‘‘I adjure thee by the living God,” he cried, striding 
forward, “ that thou tell us whether thou be the Christ, 
the Son of the Blessed.” 

It was a demand which a judge had no right to make, 
and which Jesus would have been perfectly justified in 
refusing to answer ; but there was no longer reason why 
he should refrain from announcing himself to Israel as the 
Messiah. All danger of popular disturbance in his favour 
was over ; and precipitation of action against him there 
could not now be, for his hour was come, — the appointed 
hour of his foes, and of the Power of darkness. He who 
came to bear witness to the truth could refuse no such 
challenge, least of all one so notable as the present. 

“ I am,” he said calmly ; “ and ye shall see the Son of 
man, sitting at the right hand of power, and coming with 
the clouds of heaven.” 

Caiphah rent his outer robe, — an act permissible in the 
High Priest only in cases of blasphemy, — and, assuming 
an attitude of pious horror, looked around on his fellow 
Sanhedrists, a gleam of triumph discernible in his eyes. 


Tni^ STORY OF THF :MFSS1AIL 


497 


“ He hath spoken blasphemy,” he cried in affected dis- 
may ; “what further need have we of witnesses? behold, 
now ye have heard the blasphemy : what think ye ? ” 

Without exception his fellow-rulers pronounced the Man 
they hated guilty of blasphemy, and worthy of death. 
The vote was not a formal one, the hour announced for 
the meeting of the Sanhedrin having not yet arrived. 
Besides, in capital cases, judgment could be given only in 
the daytime, and in the regular hall of assembly in the 
Temple. Final sentence had therefore to be deferred ; but 
the fate of the divine Prisoner was sealed. It might be, 
indeed, that a few of the members not present at the ex- 
amination would have the conscience and the courage to 
vote for acquittal ; but their votes would effect nothing ; 
a decided majority of all the members had already pro- 
nounced against Jesus. 

It was as he was led away to the guard-room to await 
the hour of departure for the Temple that, in crossing the 
court, his sorrowful look so deeply affected the erring but 
penitent Peter. In the guard-room the character of the 
Master’s ordeal changed. He faced no longer plots against 
his life ; but was called upon to endure the abuse, the 
ribaldry, and the mockery of coarse and insolent men. 
The low dependents and slaves of the High Priest dis- 
played no slight readiness to follow, in more vulgar and 
contemptible lines, the example of their unscrupulous and 
brutal master, and no little fertility of resource in heaping 
insult upon insult on the person of him who came to save 
them. But though they exhausted their means of annoy- 
ance ; though they buffeted him, and spat upon him, 
blindfolded him, and then, smiting him with their hands, 
cried in mockery, “Prophesy unto us, thou Christ: who 
is he that struck thee ? ” — yet did they not succeed in 
destroying the majestic meekness of him who had come 
to that hour fully resolved to drink to the very dregs the 


498 


EMMANUEL ; 


cup his Father had given him. Happily the coming of 
the dawn soon interrupted the brutal sport. 

In the early morning light Jesus was led across the 
bridge to the Temple and the council chamber, that the 
sentence already passed might be reaffirmed and made 
legal. 

“ If thou art the Christ, tell us,” began Hanan, know- 
ing not now how to approach the question. 

“ If I tell you, ye will not believe,” was the sad but 
calm reply: “ and if I ask you, ye will not answer. But 
from henceforth shall the Son of man be seated at the 
right hand of the power of God.” 

“ Art thou then the Son of God?” burst from the lips 
of a dozen eager priests and Rabbis, leaning forward in 
their seats with excitement. 

“ Ye say that I am? ” 

“What further need have we of witness?” exclaimed 
the leaders, with sanctimonious gestures and ejaculations ; 
“ for we ourselves have heard from his own mouth.” 

With less than a dozen dissenting votes, — the small 
minority, however, comprising Nakdimon, Joseph of Ari- 
mathaea, and Gamaliel, grandson of the great Hillel, the 
noblest members of the council, — the expected sentence 
of death was passed forthwith, and the session broke up 
tumultuously, the members hastening to lead their anointed, 
but rejected. King before the Procurator, without whose 
consent the sentence could not be carried into effect. 

At the moment of departure, the leaders were detained by 
a most unlooked-for interruption. Judah of Kerioth, the 
traitor, pushed his way through the excited throng, and 
came forward with the preposterous demand that they 
should surrender their victim at the very instant of triumph. 

“ I have sinned in that I betrayed innocent blood, ^ he 
exclaimed, holding out the thirty pieces of silver. 

“ What is that to us? See thou to it,” was the scoffing 


THE STOBY OF THE MESSTAIL 


499 


return of Caiphah, after a momentary stare of astonish- 
ment. 

Judah saw his impotence. Bitterly he realized now that 
the rulers of Israel cared nothing about the guilt or inno- 
cence of Jesus of Nazareth, and, throwing down the money, 
he went away, that he might witness no longer the progress 
of a tragedy which he had begun, but was powerless to 
stay. 

From the moment of the capture, when his importance 
among the conspirators whose tool he had become had de- 
parted, the reaction in the man of Kerioth had been setting 
in. He began to perceive the fearful character of his act, 
the blackness and utter odiousness of his treason. So far 
had this reaction proceeded in little over an hour’s time, 
that, when the lack of witnesses sent Hanan to him to 
bargain for further infamous service, he refused outright, 
declaring shortly that he could give no testimony that 
would convict the Prisoner. 

Now remorse mastered him completely ; he could not 
forget, easily as he had forgotten before, the uniform lov- 
ing-kindness shown him by the betrayed Master from the 
first day of his discipleship to the supper table of the even- 
ing before. Look where he would, he saw before him the 
face of Jesus, strong and serene, but sorrowfully grave, 
with eyes fixed on his in that searching gaze which had dis- 
concerted even the arrogant and hardened Caiphah, — a 
gaze which he dared not meet, yet could not escape. On 
learning of the events at the Praetorium, and of the mob 
surging out toward Golgotha, the agony of his darkened 
soul became insupportable, and, fiying from the city, he 
hanged himself in a neighbouring orchard. “ Good were 
it for that man if he had not been born.” 

As for the rulers to whom the purchase-money of their 
King had now come back, with a ceremonial scrupulosity 
which history shows to be often joined with inner baseness, 


500 


JSMMAJ^UHL : 


they decided not to put the blood money into the treasury, 
hut to set it apart for the purchase of a field in which to 
bury strangers, — a field for long years afterward known 
to disciples as Akeldama, the field of blood. 

With their Prisoner strongly guarded, to render futile any 
attempt at rescue, and followed by the great crowd of 
spectators already gathered in the Temple courts, an im- 
portant part of which was the fanatical rabble employed in 
the capture of Jesus, the Sanhedrists crossed again to the 
upper city, and proceeded to the Praetorium. This rabble 
the shrewd Hanan took care should accompany them, since 
its support might be needed for the furtherance of their 
purpose in the next act of the drama. Yet he and his 
fellow- conspirators anticipated little trouble with the Roman 
governor. Though he delighted to annoy the Jews, the 
grasping, red-handed Procurator would nevertheless be 
slow, after his defeat in the last appeal to the Emperor, to 
enter into a doubtful contest with the rulers of the nation 
in behalf of an Israelite of whom he knew nothing. Let 
there but be a bold-faced charge of sedition, supported by 
a little clamor, and the doom of the hated Nazarene 
would be certain. 

They did no injustice to the character of Pontius Pilate. 
A man, who, according to the testimony of a distinguished 
contemporary, Philo of Alexandria, had been conspicuous 
for his rapacity and the venality of his sentences, who had 
ruined whole families, whose hands were stained with the 
blood of men whose only crime was their wealth, — such a 
man assuredly seemed little likely to bestir himself in de- 
fence of an apparently friendless Prisoner. Of two things, 
however, the conspirators failed to take account, — the 
unique character of the Accused, and the influence of super- 
stition on the infidel mind of the Roman. The second 
they could not know, the first they would not. 

The sun’s rays were just pouring over the summit of the 


THE STORY OF THE 3IESSIAH. 


501 


Mount of Olives, streaming in nearly level beams over the 
walls of the Temple, glinting on the gilded, spike-armed 
roof of the Holy House, and making strong lights and deep 
shadows in the wilderness of house-tops in Jerusalem itself, 
when the heterogeneous multitude with its extraordinary 
Captive surged through the gates opening into the palace 
grounds, and up to the front of the beautiful Prictorium, 
where formerly Herod had reigned in splendid misery. The 
Sanhedrists, dreading ceremonial defilement and consequent 
exclusion from the feasts of the day, though fearing not 
the stain of innocent blood, would not enter the palace, 
but remained without in the noble court, between the great 
marble wings of the building. This court, commonly 
known as the Pavement, was provided with a floor of beau- 
tiful mosaics, surrounded on three sides with imposing 
cloisters, and ornamented with sculptured columns. The 
Prisoner, however, was led into the judgment hall. 

Presently the Roman, toga clad, proud in bearing, and 
with face indicative rather of determined self-assertion 
with a dash of ruthlessness than of true strength, appeared, 
and passed with his guard to his raised seat under the 
shelter of the inner cloister. A noble ancestry had be- 
queathed to the governor a flne figure and a commanding 
presence. Outwardly he represented well that might and 
unbending purpose, everywhere associated with the name 
of Rome, which had carried the eagles to the borders of the 
civilized world ; but inwardly it was far otherwise. Whether 
chiefly the fault of his age and his class, or of the individual 
himself, it remains a fact that Pontius Pilate, sixth Procu- 
rator of Judaea, was aggressive in selfishness, and domi- 
neering in manner and rule, but truly resolute and tenacious 
neither in the right nor in the wrong, — a man whose greed 
led him into crimes through which he was in daily fear of 
the informer, and imperial condemnation and consequent 
removal from office. Such a man, left, like most of the 


502 


EMMANUEL ; 


Roman knights, morally rudderless, spiritually dismantled, 
by the storms of unbelief and ruthless passion which had 
raged over the Graeco-Roman world, and had swept religion 
and patriotism into the limbo of vanished dreams, — such 
a man was not one whom an innocent Prisoner, destitute 
alike of money with which to bribe and of powerful friends 
to intercede, would willingly have chosen for his judge. 
But on this occasion, to the angry amazement of the 
equally unprincipled, but more tenacious, Hebrew leaders, 
Pilate was surprisingly disposed to judge with impartiality. 
It was a double disappointment to the Sanhedrists ; for 
they had hoped that the Procurator would not investigate 
the case at all, but yield a contemptuous assent to their 
demand. 

That Pilate disappointed their expectations was due 
solely to the character of their Prisoner. On entering the 
judgment hall, and finding that Jewish purism had pre- 
vented the accusers from coming into it, his annoyance 
over what he contemptuously called “ the puerile supersti- 
tions of these Hebrew dogs ’’ was such, that he w^as ready 
to dismiss the case in the easiest manner possible, compen- 
sating himself for yielding to the demands of the Jews by 
manifesting toward them all the contumely of which the 
occasion admitted. Pausing, however, to look at the ac- 
cused, he was astonished. What could be the charge 
against this Man? That he was probably innoceht of 
crime, his practised eye told him at a glance ; but inno- 
cence on trial, and awaiting certain conviction, was no new 
spectacle to Pontius Pilate ; his curiosity was aroused to 
discover what could be the real reason of this Man’s appre- 
hension and prosecution. Very plainly he wms not a man 
of wealth, upon whose treasures others were bent on laying 
hands ; neither did he have the look of a fanatical sectary, 
who had been raising a rival party to those already sharing 
and disgracing the authority of the Sanhedrin. The Proc- 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


503 


iirator found himself strangely interested and impressed, 
as he scrutinized his Prisoner. Though weariness and suf- 
fering were revealed with a sad clearness in the face before 
him, there were also a grave sweetness, a purity, and a 
strong patience, which soon banished the Roman’s first 
feeling of contempt for both the accusers and their victim. 
There was certainly something remarkable about this Man ; 
there was some mystery in this case. Were the thing not 
preposterous, he could have taken oath that the eyes of 
that bound, weary Captive were reading his soul, and look- 
ing upon him with compassion, — upon him, the proud 
representative of imperial Rome ! 

“What accusation bring ye against this Man?” de- 
manded Pilate on taking his seat without. 

“ If this Man were not an evil doer, we should not have 
delivered him up unto thee,” returned Caiphah sullenly, 
vexed that the governor should enter into the case at all. 

“ Take him yourselves, and judge him according to your 
law,” retorted Pilate disdainfully, conscious of his advan- 
tage. 

“It is not lawful for us to put any man to death,” the 
Sanhedrists replied, swallowing their mortification, and 
bringing forward the required charges, dropping, however, 
that of blasphemy, which they knew the Roman would 
scoff at. “We found this man perverting our nation, and 
forbidding to give tribute to Caesar, and saying that he him- 
self is Christ a king.” 

Though Pilate was not deceived by the lying accusation, 
knowing that if true the Prisoner would never have been 
arraigned before him by Jewish prosecutors, yet the 
charges were of so grave a political character that he could 
not safely ignore them. He retired, therefore, to the 
judgment hall to interrogate tlie Accused. Surveying the 
worn face and the poor, stained garb of Jesus, in such 
striking contrast with the splendid hall which a former 


504 


EMMANUEL ; 


king of the Jews had built and decorated, he inquired with 
amusement and irony, “ Art thou the King of the Jews? ” 

“ Sayest thou this of thyself, or did others tell it thee 
concerning me?” 

“ Am I Jew? Thine own nation and the chief priests 
delivered thee unto me : what hast thou done ? ” 

“ My kingdom is not of this world : if my kingdom were 
of this world, then would my servants fight, that 1 should 
not be delivered to the Jews : but now is my kingdom not 
from hence.” 

“ Art thou a King then?” 

“ Thou sayest that I am a King. To this end have I 
been born, and to this end am I come into the world, that 
I should bear witness unto the truth. Every one that is of 
the truth heareth my voice.” 

“ Ah', the truth ! What is truth? ” 

Alas, Pontius Pilate, that thou and thy people should 
have esteemed truth a mockery ; an enigma, all hope of 
solving which was vain ! Had Greeks and Romans made 
the inquiry with the earnestness befitting its importance, 
quite another future might have been before them than that 
dark and disastrous one toward which, notwithstanding the 
splendor of their civilization, they were then drifting. 

Though he considered it a mere form, the Procurator had 
Jesus brought out to the Pavement, that he might be con- 
fronted with his accusers and make his reply. The charges 
were repeated indeed, and with angry vehemence ; but 
reply there was none. Though all eyes were fixed upon 
him in expectation, yet the grave, sorrow-drooped lips of 
Jesus were unopened. 

“ Answerest thou nothing?” exclaimed Pilate ; “ behold 
how many things they accuse thee of.” 

Still there was no word of denial or recrimination. Pi- 
late’s wonder increased ; and with it his respect for the sin- 
gular Prisoner. It was as he expected, he said to himself. 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


505 


— a case of mere ecclesiastical jealousy and opposition. 
These Eastern peoples still went mad over the childish 
chimeras of religion, which all intelligent Romans had long 
since outgrown. The Accused was doubtless some relig- 
ious zealot, though certainly of a remarkable type ; a 
high-souled, finely poised man this, one by all means to be 
rescued from the murderous clutches of his prosecutors. 
The Procurator was the more confirmed in this conclusion 
by receiving, while on the judgment seat, a message of 
warning from his wife. 

“ Have thou nothing to do with that righteous man,” it 
ran : “ for I have suffered many things this day in a dream 
because of him.” 

The Roman was disturbed ; who could tell what that 
dreg-m augured? Well had it been for the great Julius had 
he heeded the warning dream of his wife. 

“ I find no fault in this man,” he said with emphasis, 
lifting his eyes to the impatient Sanhedrists. 

The latter were thoroughly angered. Did the governor 
mean to contend with them over this Nazarene? Let him 
beware ! Instantly the accusations were renewed, and 
made more formidable in number and volume, if not in 
matter. 

“ He stirreth up the people,” it was declared among 
other things, ‘‘ teaching throughout all Judaea, and begin- 
ning from Galilee even unto this place.” 

The word Galilee suggested to Pilate a way of escape 
from an unpleasant dilemma. If this man was a Galilaean 
he would send him to Herod, then in the city, and free him- 
self from the necessity of choosing between a conflict with 
these Hebrew fanatics, excited now with murderous fury, 
and the execution of an innocent man whom his better in- 
stincts and his superstition united in urging him to release. 

Thus it was that Jesus stood at last before the Tetrarch. 
The latter, that he might still keep up the pretence of being 


e506 


EMMANUEL ; 


a Jewish ruler, had come up to the feast as usual, and was 
lodged at the old Asmouaean palace near the lower bridge ; 
aud, having now lost his fear that Jesus was John the 
Baptist risen from the dead, he was much pleased 
that Pilate should, give him this opportunity to see the 
noted wonder-worker. The incident created a friendly 
feeling between the two rulers, formerly at enmity, and it 
gave Antipas a fresh opportunity to display his baseness of 
soul ; but it effected little else. The Tetrarch’s hope of 
witnessing a miracle proved vain ; Jesus maintained the 
same grave dignity and the same aspect of patient endur- 
ance which had characterized him at the other tribunals. 
To the questions and demands of Herod, as to the calum- 
nies and diatribes of the priests and Rabbis, he was dumb. 
Angered finally by a silence which looked like contempt, 
the Tetrarch joined with his soldiers in deriding Jesus and 
his claims, — putting a splendid robe upon him, mocking 
him with the title of Messiah, and making him the butt of 
rude jibes and taunts. When the ignoble sport lost its 
charm, as it did quickly, since the victim could be provoked 
neither into expressions of anger nor appeals for mercy, 
Jesus was sent back to the Procurator. 

Meanwhile, the people remaining at the Prsetorium had 
set up a clamor for the release of a prisoner, after the 
custom of the Passover festival. Pilate, finding that Jesus 
had been sent back, hoped that he might be able to utilize 
this popular demand for giving the latter his liberty. Evi- 
dently^ envy was the root of the animosity of the Sanhe- 
drists ; but perhaps the common people would show another 
temper. 

‘‘ Whom will ye that I release unto you?” he said to the 
crowd, “ Bar- Abbas, or Jesus who is called Christ? ” 

Hanan and his fellow-conspiritors seized the short pause 
ensuing to urge the people to call out the well-known name 
of Bar- Abbas, a man who had committed murder in a local 


THE STOEY OF THE MESSIAH. 


50T 


insurrection. The rabble — no small part of the crowd — * 
needed but a hint from such a source. 

‘ ‘ Whether of the twain will ye that I release unto you ? 
repeated the Procurator. 

“ Not this man, but Bar- Abbas,” cried a lusty voice. 

“ Bar- Abbas ! Bar- Abbas ! ” arose from the mass of the 
multitude, the few who would have preferred the release of 
Jesus finding neither courage nor opportunity to speak. 

“ What then shall I do with him whom ye call the King 
of the Jews?”, 

“ Let him be crucified,” was the brutal response of one 
or two of the mob, though not yet of the people in general. 

Pilate turned around in disgust, and, seating himself in 
his official chair again, summoned the rulers and the people 
before him, that he might give them his final decision. 

“Ye brought unto me this man,” he said, “ as one that 
perverteth the people : and behold, I, having examined him 
before you, found no fault in this man touching those 
things whereof ye accuse him : no, nor yet Herod : for he 
sent him back unto us ; and behold, nothing worthy of 
death hath been done by him. I will therefore chastise 
him, and release him.” 

This announcement that he would inflict a lesser punish- 
ment was a sop to the Lord’s accusers ; but it was utterly 
ineffectual. 

“Away with this man,” was the angry response, “ and 
release unto us Bar- Abbas.” 

“ Bar-Abbas ! Bar- Abbas ! ” echoed the mob. 

“ Why, what evil hath this man done ? I have found no 
cause of death in him : I will therefore chastise him, and 
release him.” 

“ Crucify, crucify him ! ” cried the Sanhedrists and the 
rabble. 

A scowl darkened Pilate’s brow ; he would willingly have 
turned his soldiers on the clamorous crew ; but he too re- 


508 


EMMANUEL ; 


membered that the Emperor had decided against him on 
the last appeal. He determined to try patience and ex- 
postulation a little longer. 

By his order the Prisoner was taken to the guard-room, 
the interior of which was open to the gaze of the people, 
and scourged. Pilate’s motive in this was merciful from 
his point of view ; but the act itself was terribly cruel. 
He wished to save the life of Jesus ; and, to his blunted 
moral perceptions, it seemed at once an act of shrewdness 
and of mercy to make the Prisoner suifer in the sight of 
the people, that so their sympathies might be wrought upon, 
and the cry of “ Crucify” ended or abated. And the sight 
was cruel enough to have moved hearts of stone. As the 
strokes of the leathern thongs, knotted and weighted with 
bits of bone and lead, fell on his naked back, though no 
sound, not even a moan, escaped him, yet those near 
enough could see his agony depicted in his lowered face, 
over which a death-like look was creeping. How long this 
horrible punishment continued depended in each case on 
the barbarity of the officers and the endurance of the victim. 
In the case of Jesus it did not last long. The soldiers, the 
whole cohort of whom was now assembled, seeing that his 
strength was fast failing, and having no mind that their 
base sport should be interrupted by the fainting of the 
victim, laid aside the lash, and turned their torture into 
new channels. 

They threw around him a purple robe, in mockery of his 
royal claims ; thrust between his bound wrists a reed for a 
sceptre ; twisted a thorn branch into a rude sort of coronet, 
forcing it down upon his head till the blood started through 
the skin under its merciless pressure ; and then filed before 
him in ribald mirth, each man bending the knee as he 
passed. 

“ Hail, King of the Jews ! ” they shouted with bursts of 
derisive laughter, spitting on him at the same time in vile 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH 509 

wantonness, and striking him with their hands, or driving 
the cruel thorns deeper into his quivering flesh by a blow 
from the mock sceptre. 

At last the Procurator interfered with the infamous game, 
and ordered the Prisoner brought out upon the platform 
near his chair. “ Surely,” he said to himself, “the man’s 
sufferings must have satisfied his foes by this time.” Pilate 
was mistaken ; as well might he have tried to quiet a tiger 
with blood. 

“Behold,” he said, “I bring him out to you, that ye 
may know that I find no crime in him.” Then, pointing to 
the blood-stained, purple-robed, mock-crowned Jesus, — 

“ Behold, the Man ! ” 

“ Crucify him, crucify him ! ” went up the ravening cry, 
from the Sanhedrists at first, then from the whole multi- 
tude. 

“ Take him yourselves, and crucify him,” he rejoined in 
irritation and disgust : “ for I find no crime in him.” 

Legally this was impossible, as all knew ; and the case 
had become far too public now for the Jewish leaders to 
risk the use of mob violence. 

“We have a law,” returned the latter, attempting to 
justify their clamor, “ and by that law he ought to die, 
because he made himself the Son of God.” 

At this the superstitious fears of the Roman sprang into 
new life ; he ordered the Prisoner brought back into the 
judgment hall. 

“ Whence art thou?” he said. 

There was no answer. 

“ Sir, whence art thou? ” 

Still no answer. 

‘ ‘ Speakest thou not unto me ? Knowest thou not that I 
have power to release thee, and have power to crucify 
thee?” 

“ Thou wouldest have no power against me, except it 


510 


EMMANUEL ; 


were given thee from above,” came finally from the sorrow- 
ful lips, firm with fortitude, but tense with suffering : 

‘ ‘ therefore he that delivered me unto thee hath greater 
sin.” 

The Procurator thereupon went out to the Pavement, and 
declared to the now utterly exasperated Sanhedrists that 
he would entertain their charges against the Accused no 
longer. 

“ If thou release this Man,” was the menacing reply, 
“ thou art not Caesar’s friend : every one that maketh him- 
self a king speaketh against Caesar.” 

At the dread name of the Emperor Pilate trembled. 
Another appeal to Caesar ! The acts of his past, his gross 
abuse of his office, — all, perhaps, brought before the eye 
of the Emperor ! No, he could not risk it ; he dared not 
defend the Nazarene at such peril. Commanding the Pris- 
oner to be led forth, he returned sullenly to the judgment 
seat, and waited silently while the bound, thorn-crowned 
Jesus took his position before the multitude, the bright 
sunlight shining all about him, and bringing out promi- 
nently the marks of his sufferings, and the shameful traces 
of the indignities which had been shown him. 

“ Behold, your King ! ” said Pilate, bitingly. 

“ Away with him, away with him, crucify him ! ” went up 
from the great throng. 

‘ ‘ Shall I crucify your King ? ” 

“We have no king but Caesar.” 

The Procurator smiled grimly, then called for a basin of 
water, and, in the sight of all, formally washed his hands. 

“lam innocent of the blood of this righteous Man,^’ he 
said; “ see ye to it.” 

Dreadful in its blood-thirstiness, fearful in its prophetic 
character, was the answering cry of the multitude : — 

“ His blood be on us, and on our children.” 

Alas for the truth of the prophecy ! 


THE STORY OF THE 3fESSIAIL 


511 


Priestly and Rabbinical rancour had triumphed ; the order 
for the release of the murderer Bar-Abbas, and the execu- 
tion of the Saviour of the world, was given. During the 
preparation of the cross, Pilate sat with scowling face, 
wrapped in gloomy silence, while the Sanhedrists feasted 
their eyes on the purple-robed, thorn-crowned Victim. 

“ Behold, your King,” the Procurator had said in merci- 
less sarcasm. Some there were — sadly few, it is time, 
few as the elect often are — who heard the words careless 
of their derisive ring, because utterly swallowed up men- 
tally by the bitter, agonizing fact at which they were 
directed. As Thoma looked upon his Lord, thus mock- 
ingly attired and accosted, and noted how worn and deathly 
white the strong, sweet face had become, he felt that he 
had not known before how he loved this Jesus of Nazareth. 
Alas ! why had he and his comrades been forbidden to fight 
in the Master’s cause ? Why had he not been permitted to 
lay down his life before this dreadful hour, before he saw 
the Messiah despised and rejected by the people he had 
come to save? “Despised and rejected!” Ah, the 
prophecy, the prophecy ! The dire, but truthful, prophecy I 

O dreadful day ! O terrible morning ! cruel in its very 
beauty, mocking in its brightness. Were Jesus this day 
to ascend the throne of his father, David, orchards and 
vineyards could not be more green, sky more blue, or the 
Holy City in the brilliant sunshine more splendid. And yet 
Israel was hunting its King to death I While only priests 
and Rabbis sought the Master’s destruction, hope was easy ; 
malignant opposition was to be expected from them ; but 
now that the common people, like beasts of prey, were 
clamoring for the blood of the Messiah, what hope was 
possible ! What hope when — O irony of circumstance ! — 
the only defence of the long-looked-for Deliverer from the 
fury of his own people was the remnant of a sense of jus- 
tice in an unscrupulous Roman oppressor? 


512 


EMMANUEL ; 


As little as the sanguinary mob about him did Thoma 
dream that the silent, suffering Prisoner, whom men now 
delighted to mock, was at that moment winning his crown ; 
fighting his way to the decisive victory in the conquest of a 
kingdom indeed ; not that of little Judaea, but one that 
would make even Roman dominion dwindle and pale into 
insignificance, — the kingdom of heaven, its subjects a 
countless multitude out of all nations and ages, redeemed 
and glorified. Little did the devoted but despairing disci- 
ple from Ephraim suppose that, in a time qot far distant, 
he would look back upon the events of this fearful day, 
and with them in mind echo the words of a fellow-apostle, 
“Wherefore also God highly exalted him, and gave unto 
him the name which is above every name ; that in the name 
of Jesus every knee should bow, . . . and that every 

tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the 
glory of God the Father.” 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


513 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

CALVARY.* 

O come, and mourn with me awhile! 

See Mary calls us to her side; 

O come, and let us mourn with her; 

Jesus, our love, is crucified! 

Found guilty of excess of love, 

It was thine own sweet will that tied 

Thee tighter far than helpless nails; 

Jesus, our love, is crucified! 

Fabeb. 

y^UDAH.” 

f J Turning about, Thoma found himself looking 

into the white face of his brother. There were 
words of woe on the lips of each ; but they remained un- 
spoken. The temper of the crowd made demonstrations 
of grief dangerous. With only the constrained words, 
“ Follow me,” Asahel led Thoma to the farther side of the 
court, where the latter found his wife and his mother, — 
come up from Ephraim the evening before, — the Lord’s 
mother and sister, and other w'omen, just arrived from 
Bethany. They received him with looks of recognition 
from eyes red with weeping and dark with trouble. 

Suddenly a cry of anguish burst from Miriam’s lips, and 
all the women fell to weeping and sobbing ; for suspense 
was ended ; dread had become certainty. The soldiers, 
issuing from the guard-room, stripped the Prisoner of his 
scarlet robe ; put his own soiled, blood-stained tallith on 
him again ; and then flung over his shoulder two rough, 
heavy planks, the larger about eight feet long, loosely tied 
together near the middle. The Master tottered under their 


iMatt. xxvii. 31-66; John xix. 17-42. 


514 


EMMANUEL ; 


weight ; then, regaining his footing, passed out from the 
Praetorium grounds, bearing his cross, guards in front of 
him and behind him. 

But Roman legionaries were far from being the Lord’s 
only attendants on his way to death. All Jerusalem took 
holiday, and swarmed in the streets, greedy to see the 
Nazarene Prophet go to the most shameful of ends. A 
stranger witnessing this gloating over the sufferings of the 
Condemned would little have supposed that those streets, 
only five days before, had rung with acclamations and 
shouts of “ Hosanna” over this same Jesus of Nazareth. 
Where now, among all these cruel or idly interested men, 
citizens of Jerusalem and pilgrims from a distance, were 
they who, on the first day of the week, had cried, “ Blessed 
is he that cometh in the name of the Lord ” ? Alas ! the 
greater part of those former multitudes had shouted, not 
for Jesus of Nazareth, but over the supposed approaching 
realization of their revolutionary dreams. When Jesus re- 
fused to meet their expectations, he stripped himself , as he 
knew well, of all beauty and desirableness in their eyes, 
rendering some hostile, most of them henceforth indifferent, 
to him. The few who had really exulted over the Master’s 
apparent triumph for his own sake looked on now with sor- 
rowing, some of them with breaking, hearts ; but with 
hands powerless to succour. If, however, men would not 
or could not help, women could weep ; and, regardless of 
the good or evil opinion of soldiers or Sanhedrists, the 
women of Jerusalem did weep as they watched the meek 
and gracious Jesus stagger along the way, his fainting 
form ruthlessly goaded on with the point of a soldier’s 
javelin. They could not forget so easily as the men the 
deeds of blessing which this suffering man had performed 
among them ; nor could they blind their eyes and steel their 
hearts to the cruel woe of the sinless Victim. The men and 
the women of Jerusalem- were not of one mind on that day. 


THE STOBY OF THE 3fESSIAIL 


515 


When the northern gate was reached, and the steep as- 
cent without it confronted, the strength of Jesus gave out 
entirely ; he sank to the earth, unable to move a step 
farther under his odious burden. The centurion in charge, 
knowing what he had endured, liad expected such an out- 
come before, and forbade the soldiers to goad their Pris- 
oner further. As he was looking about for some one else 
to carry the cross, a certain foreign Jew of Cyrene, Simon 
by name, whose two sons, Alexander and Rufus, were 
afterwards well-known disciples, came up to the gate from 
the country, was pointed out to him as a follower of Jesus, 
and without scruple impressed by him for the humiliating 
service. 

The sinking of Jesus had been the signal for a new out- 
burst of weeping by the women in the crowd. 

“ Daughters of Jerusalem,” said the Master sorrowfully, 
turning toward them as he painfully rose to his feet, “ weep 
not for me, but weep for yourselves, and for your children. 
For behold, the days are coming, in which they shall say. 
Blessed are the barren, and the wombs that never bare, 
and the breasts that never gave suck. Then shall they 
begin to say to the mountains. Fall on us ; and to the hills. 
Cover us. For if they do these things in the green tree, 
what shall be done in the dry ? ” 

They were the Lord’s last words to his people, — words 
of lament and warning. Jerusalem, the Jerusalem which 
killed the prophets, and stoned them that were sent unto 
her, was trampling under foot in wanton riot her last oppor- 
tunity of redemption and glory. Henceforth there would 
be for her only the intensification and full development of 
every baneful element, till, amidst darkest storms of woe, 
her day of death should come. 

Unurged then by word or blow Jesus went on with the 
guard, — to whom were now committed two robbers, also 
doomed to crucifixion, — through the city gate of Gol- 


616 


EMMANUEL ; 


gotha, the place of a skull, in the Latin tongue known as 
Calvary. Thoma shuddered as he came in sight of this 
place ; now he understood why the Lord had stopped to 
gaze at it the afternoon before. But could it be that Jesus 
was to die ? the Messiah to perish, and by a death held by 
all nations the most cruel and shameful? Where, then, 
were all the prophecies ? where the hopes of Israel ? Surely 
there must soon be an end to this dreadful tragedy. The 
Master’s power was abundantly sufficient to deliver him from 
even Roman grasp ; and presently it would be exercised, to 
the consternation of his foes, and the triumphant joy of 
his friends. 

With such a hope within him, it was with a strange 
blending of dread and incredulity that the devoted disciple 
watched the soldiers dig the three holes in the earth, nail 
the planks cruciform, and lay the crosses opposite the pre- 
pared sockets. But when he saw them strip the clothing 
from his Lord, stretch him naked on the middle cross of 
the three, and with brutal coolness drive a nail through 
each of the blessed hands which had ministered so con- 
stantly to human need ; when he heard the low moans 
that burst from the patient lips, — he could neither doubt 
nor look any longer, but covered his head with his tallith 
in horror and utter anguish of heart. With bowled head, 
and in an agony of expectation, while the arms were tied 
to the cross-piece that the weight of the body might not 
tear them loose, he listened for the blows to follow which 
would fasten the Master’s feet to the cross, and the sound 
of which, he knew well, would be so loud that not even 
the sobbing of the women around him would drown it. 
They came ; and again the moans which wrenched his 
heart as with an instrument of torture. Least of all 
would he look up for the next horrible act. The soldiers 
lifted the cross, thus preciously weighted, and dropped it 
into the hole prepared for it ; and, as Thoma expected, 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


517 


this proved the culmination of his Lord’s agony, — the 
upright as it struck the bottom tearing anew each of the 
cruel wounds already made. At last the son of Salmon 
lifted his head, and looked at Jesus stretched on the in- 
famous tree ; for he heard the Master speaking. 

“ Father,” ran the words, in a voice broken with terri- 
ble suffering, “ forgive them ; for they know not what 
they do.” 

He covered his face again ; the sight was too dreadful. 
The beloved Master, hanging by the torturing support of 
the cruel nails, naked, and but a foot or two above the 
ground, exposed to the view' of the coarse rabble, the in- 
sulting jibes and blows of every ruffianly soldier or spec- 
tator, and the derisive taunts of his rancorous foes, — the 
sight was too dreadful ; it was unendurable. 

In their distress for him whom they loved, Thoma and 
his companions hardh^ heard the screams and imprecations 
of the robbers as they were crucified. The multitude, too, 
gave the w'oes of the malefactors but a passing notice. 
All eyes were fixed on the Prophet of Galilee, who hung, 
enduring without moan or murmur a torture which every 
one knew to be keen, varied, and unceasing, relieved 
neither by unconsciousness nor by the hope of speedy 
death. To the very general surprise of the beholders he 
refused the stupefying draught of mingled wine and myrrh 
proffered him, in real pity and respect, by the centurion, 
with the merciful intent of deadening his sufferings. He 
would not drink it ; for his battle for mankind was not yet 
over, and he needed every faculty at his command, that he 
might fight it out to the end. 

The Lord’s foes took pains that his cup of misery should 
not fail of fulness from lack of derision. 

“Ha! thou that destroyest the Temple, and buildest it 
in three days, save thyself,” the rabble shouted at him 
with brutal laughter: “if thou art the Son of God, come 
down from the cross.” 


518 


EMMANUEL ; 


To the same effect were the taunting cries of those pass- 
ing on the neighbouring highway below ; nor did the high 
dignitaries of the nation,, the chief priests, the scribes, 
and the elders, scruple to join in the ruffianly sport. 

“ He saved others ; himself he cannot save,” they said 
scoffingly in the hearing of the Sufferer and the people, 
without a thought of the deep truth of their words. “ He 
is the Christ, the King of Israel ; let him now come down 
from the cross, that we may see and believe. He trusted 
on God ; let Him deliver him now, if He desireth him ; for 
he said, I am the Son of God.” 

The soldiers knew nothing of the Christ nor of the Son 
of God ; yet, as they sat on the ground and watched their 
silent victim, they added their taunt to the scoffs of the 
others, “ If thou art the King of the Jews, save thyself.” 

But taunt and scoff brought no word of protest or retort 
from the lips of Jesus. His fortitude was sublime. At 
length it made an impression on one at least of the be- 
holders. One of the robbers crucified with him looked 
with wonder at his companion in agony ; and as he looked 
his groans grew fewer, and the imprecations died on his 
lips. Pain proved in his case an effectual spur to mental 
activity ; he recognized the majesty of Jesus. What he 
had heard of this Man, of his works and his teachings, he 
found himself accepting in this supreme hour without ques- 
tion. What torture that sinless companion was then en- 
during he knew all too well ; from whence had the former 
the strength to bear it thus ? and whence came the eleva- 
tion of soul enabling him to bear the scoffs of the authors 
of that torture so meekly ? This Man was not an impostor ; 
this Man had truly come down from above. When the 
other robber added his mockery of the most unpopular and 
most derided of the three to that of the mob, in hope of 
gaining some small favours from the latter, and demanded 
of Jesus, “Art not thou the Christ? save thyself and us,” 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


519 


his fellow immediately rebuked him, regardless of the fact 
that thereby he would not improbably draw the jeers of 
the crowd upon himself. 

“ Doest thou not even fear God,” he said, “ seeing thou 
art in the same condemnation ? And we indeed justly ; 
for we receive the due reward of our deeds ; but this Man 
hath done nothing amiss.” Then, very reverently, ‘‘ Jesus, 
remember me when thou comest in thy kingdom.” 

Immediately the Redeemer broke his silence. 

“ Verily I say unto thee, To-day shalt thou be with me 
in Paradise.” 

From that moment a new hope, bringing a new power 
of endurance, reigned in the dying robber’s heart : repent- 
ance and confession had come late into his heart ; but the 
repentance was sincere and the confession as true as it 
was courageous. 

All at once there was a pause in the revilings of the 
spectators. The inhuman pastime had not lost its charm, 
but there was an unlooked-for and a very unwelcome out- 
come of their savage pursuit of “the Nazarene.” Pilate, 
in bitter irony toward the hypocritical accusers, had 
adopted their false accusation and the avowal of the Pris- 
oner, and combining the two had prepared a tablet which 
was placed at the head of the middle cross of the three. 
Its inscription ran, — 

“JESUS OF NAZARETH, THE KING 
OF THE JEWS.” 

As the title was written in a bold hand, and, like those 
on the other crosses, not only in Latin, the tongue of the 
conquerors, but in Greek and in the current Aramaic also, 
there were few in the great crowd who did not read the 
fearful truth, that Jerusalem had incited her masters to 
crucify her King. This would never do. After expostu- 
lating in vain with the centurion, the priests and scribes 


520 


EMMANUEL ; 


hurried away to the Procurator to demand a modification 
of the significant superscription. 

“ Write not,” they cried, with exasperation, “ The King 
of the Jews ; but, that he said, I am King of the Jews.” 

“ What I have written I have written,” was the con- 
temptuous response. 

The title in place, the soldiers in charge, four in number, 
sat down to keep guard till death, more merciful than men, 
should come to the crucified, and set them free. The 
clothing of the dying men the guard divided among them- 
selves ; but as the Lord’s tunic, being seamless, could not 
be parted without destroying its value, the men, little 
thinking that they were fulfilling a prophecy uttered cen- 
turies before, disposed of it by casting lots. 

Gradually, as the dreadful hours of the morning wore 
away, and the shifting of the throng gave opportunity, the 
friends of the crucified Jesus drew nearer, till they stood 
as close as the soldiers would permit. Nearest of all was 
a group of women, including the Lord’s mother and her 
sister, as well as Miriam the wife of Clopah, Salome, and 
that true and noble follower, Miriam of Magdala. Imme- 
diately behind these stood the eleven, John, the disciple 
especially beloved, foremost. At length the dying Master 
spoke again. 

“ Woman,” he said to his mother, “ behold thy son ! ” 
inclining his head toward John. Then to the latter, “ Be- 
hold thy mother ! ” 

The testament was brief and oral, and in words vibrant 
with pain ; but it was duly carried into effect ; John re- 
ceived the precious legacy, and from that time took Miriam 
into his own home. The Lord was not ignorant that the 
unbelief of his brethren was soon to pass away ; but they 
were never to come into as close sympathy with him as the 
beloved disciple ; and it had been in no idle moment that 
he had declared, “ Whosoever shall do the will of God, the 
same is my brother, and sister, and mother.” 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


521 


About noon men began to look upward with anxiety. 
Was a storm coming on? A storm at the beginning of 
harvest? No one wished for so unusual and so calamitous 
an event. But if not, what was the cause of the dimming 
of the sun ? The sky was certainly singular in appearance : 
clouds there were none ; it was as though a heavy veil had been 
drawm over the face of the heavens, — a veil of a strange, 
dusky hue, through which the sun’s disk showed as a dull 
red ball. Could it be that a violent sirocco was at hand 
so early in the season ? But the suffocating dryness of that 
was lacking. What then ? For the landscape was becom- 
ing veritably dark. The look of anxiety on men’s faces 
deepened. What had happened to the sun, whose rays 
should be beating down in fiery splendour on this April 
day ? In another half-hour the sun disappeared altogether ; 
the crowded house-tops of the city below and so near could 
be seen no longer ; the sky became thick and black ; and, 
though a dim, diffused light remained, sufficient to make 
objects near by visible, yet mid-day was supplanted by 
night, — a night strange, unearthly, spectral. Scoffing died 
from the lips of low and high ; apprehension mingled with 
anxiety ; and soon men began to ask one another in awe- 
struck tones if this fearful darkness could be connected 
with the crucified “ Nazarene.” Could it be, after all, that 
this man was a prophet, and that a great crime had been 
committed? Was some dire event about to happen because 
of the sin of the people and their leaders ? As hour fol- 
lowed hour, however, and no marvel other than the unnatural 
darkness itself appeared, alarm naturally abated somewhat, 
though wonder and curiosity remained little diminished. 

At three o’clock came the crisis in the agony and spirit- 
ual confiict of Jesus. 

“Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani ? ” (“My Cod, my Cod, 
why hast Thou forsaken me ? ”) he cried out in the ordinary 
current tongue. 


522 


EMMANUEL ; 


“ Behold, he calleth Elijah,” said certain foreign Jews, 
misled by their imperfect acquaintance with the Aramaic. 

It was the first utterance of Jesus for over three hours, 
and in wonder men waited to see what would follow ; would 
Elijah comeat his call? But what happened was not 
within the range of their vision. For Jesus of Nazareth 
the end of the fight had come ; at last the enemy was 
utterly and finally defeated on his chosen field, and the life- 
campaign of the Redeemer of men was completed. 

“ I thirst,” he said huskily after a little. 

In the morning his hearers would have replied only with 
mockery ; but not so now. One of the soldiers ran quickly 
to a vessel containing the sour wine allotted to them for 
drinking, and dipping the sponge which filled the orifice 
into the liquid, lifted it by means of a short reed to the 
lips of Jesus. 

“ Let be,” cried some of the spectators, as the Master 
tasted the wine ; “let us see whether Elijah cometh to take 
him down.” 

While they waited, a loud, agonizing cry of pain burst 
from the lips of the suffering Lord ; then, after a silence, 
through the darkness came the words, “It is finished.” 
Low and simple as they were, they yet startled and thrilled 
the despairing friends of Jesus most strangely ; there was 
in them such inexpressible relief, such profound gladness, 
that Thoma peered through the gloom into Jesus’ face in 
amazement. Gently, peacefully, joyfully, came one sen- 
tence more, — 

“ Father, into Thy hands I commend my spirit.” 

Then, unperceived by even those nearest, the soul of 
the Lord departed, and the days of humiliation of Jesus, 
Son of man and Son of God, were over. That this event, 
the most important in the history of the earth, was unob- 
served at the moment was not strange ; for those marvels 
which the spectral darkness had led men half to expect, 


THE STORY OF THE 3IESSIAH. 


523 


appeared at the same moment, and held the attention of 
every one. To the terror of the people, not only did the 
darkness become deeper than ever, but the very earth 
shook under their feet ; great boulders were loosened from 
the hills, and rolling down into the valleys were broken to 
pieces on the rocks ; and, most appalling of all to some, 
the tombs of ancient prophets and other devout men of the 
past were opened by the earthquake, the stones that closed 
them being rolled away as by an unseen hand. The re- 
maining spectators upon and about Golgotha dared to face 
their crucified King no longer ; beating their breasts, and 
crying aloud in consternation, they fled from the spot, 
and rushed into the city. But within the walls dismay 
and apprehension were rife also ; for the rumour was fly- 
ing thi’ough the city that the officiating priest, while in the 
Holy House at the evening sacrifice, had seen the inner 
Temple veil rent from top to bottom by some invisible 
power, and the Holy of Holies laid bare. Alas, alas ! what 
did these fearful signs portend? 

At Golgotha only the friends of Jesus and the trembling 
Roman guard remained to watch during the concluding 
hours of the day. 

“Certainly this was a righteous Man; truly this was a 
Son of God,” exclaimed the centurion with awe, instinct- 
ively connecting the earthquake and the darkness with the 
crucified King of the Jews. 

To the followers of Jesus the earthquake brought fear 
indeed, as was natural, but a glimmer of hope also. 
Might it not be that even yet, in some unknown way, the 
Lord was to be delivered? was to come down from the 
cross, and take fearful vengeance on his foes? The hope 
was speedily slain. As gradually the darkness was dis- 
sipated by the returning light, and one after another 
objects round about became visible, Thoma watched the 
face of Jesus, and as he did so, he felt his hope die within 


524 


EMMANUEL ; 


him. Presently he went to the cross, and quietly and 
very reverently laid his hand on the utterly relaxed form 
that hung there. It was cold ; the Master was dead. 

He gazed into the now lifeless face, unable at first to 
realize the terrible fact, or to comprehend how deeply he 
himself was wounded ; then he covered his head with his 
tallith, and turned away, speechless with grief. Seeing 
his act, other of the disciples approached the cross also, 
only to learn the same bitter truth ; then the sobbing of 
the women told the son of Salmon that it was known to 
them too. The first shock of grief over, Thoma, whose 
eyes were dry, though his face was gray with suffering, 
went to his brother, and arranged with him that the latter 
should accompany the women back to the city, while the 
apostles watched by the Master’s body, in the hope of 
purchasing it from the soldiers when the day was over. 

Soon the sunlight returned to Jerusalem and its envi- 
rons ; and two hours before sunset, so bright had it become, 
so clear the air, and so blue the sky, that, but for the three 
crosses on Golgotha, the dwellers in the Holy City would 
have been tempted to believe the darkness and the earth- 
quake merely parts of a frightful dream. The same sun- 
shine which dissipated the supernatural gloom drove away, 
also, in large degree the fears of the Sanhedrists. Their 
scrupulosity once more excited, they went to Pilate, and 
succeeded in gaining his consent that the condemned men 
should be put to death before sunset, that their bodies 
might not affront the eyes of worshippers on the specially 
sacred Passover Sabbath. It was only when, in obedience 
to the Procurator’s order, the soldiers proceeded to break 
the legs of the crucified, that they discovered that Jesus 
was already dead. To make certain of the fact, one of 
the quaternion drove his broad-headed spear into the 
Saviour’s side ; and soldiers and witnessing disciples alike 
were satisfied that death had really taken place when they 
saw blood and water flow from the wound. 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


52e5 


It proved beyond the power of any of the twelve to 
secure the Lord’s body. Two of the Sanhedrists, Joseph 
of the city of Arimathaea, and his friend and fellow-coun- 
cillor, Nakdimon, presented themselves with an order from 
Pilate for the deliver}’ of the precious body. Joseph, not- 
withstanding his wealth and influence, had petitioned in 
vain for this favour, until Pilate learned that he had voted 
for the acquittal and release of Jesus, and in addition was 
assured by the centurion that death had really occurred. 
AVith the eleven, also, it was the knowledge that Joseph 
and Nakdimon had stood the friends of their Lord in the 
Sanhedrin, and were at heart his adherents, that reconciled 
them to the surrender of the beloved form to two such 
prominent Pharisees. The heart-broken disciples hastened 
to offer their aid in the last tender offices. Nor were they 
the only helpers ; to their surprise, the brethren of Jesus 
came forward, and with tearful eyes assisted in preparing 
for the tomb the body of that brother whom they had 
loved even while with warm disapproval they had opposed 
him. 

Joseph and his friend had brought with them a large 
roll of fine, white linen and about a hundred pounds of 
myrrh and aloes, with which, in the brief space before sun- 
down, after hastily washing the blood-stained body, the 
little company of mourners wrapped the Master’s lifeless 
form, and laid it away in Joseph’s own rock-hewn sepul- 
chre, — a new and hitherto unused one in a garden closely 
adjoining. Hurried as the entombment necessarily was 
because of the nearness of the Sabbath, it was a burial fit 
for a prince. He who had passed the days of his ministry 
as a wanderer, poor, and without even a place of his own 
in which to lay his head, was now in his death laid away 
with the costly tribute of wealth, and in the tomb prepared 
as the last resting-place of a proud and privileged ruler. 
Then, by the united strength of several of the men, the 


526 


EMMANUEL ; 


great stone serving as door for the sepulchre was rolled 
into place, and, followed by two devoted women, Mi- 
riam of Magdala and Miriam the wife of Alphaeus- 
Clopah, the sorrow-stricken friends of the dead Messiah 
returned in the twilight to Jerusalem, saying to themselves 
with unspeakable grief that Jesus of Nazaretji slept with 
his fathers. 

At the same time the crowd attending the three elders 
who had just cut the Passover sheaf of barley, — the barley 
which, when made into flour, would be waved before the 
Lord in the Temple on the morrow, — returned from the Ke- 
dron valley. It was noticeable that this festive throng, 
usually so noisily demonstrative, followed decorously this 
evening, with few words, and many disquieted looks in the 
direction of the unseen and now deserted eminence of Gol- 
gotha. The solemn portents of the day had not yet been 
forgotten. Least of all were they forgotten by the priests 
and scribes, whose consciences had been startled by them 
into unwonted activity. Guilt proved a wonderful illumi- 
nator. They recalled that the Man who, with one imperative 
sentence had brought Laazar from the grave, had also pre- 
dicted his own resurrection on the third day ; and they were 
not now nearly so sure as the disciples, or as they them- 
selves could have wished to be, that their hated and 
dreaded Opponent was sleeping with his fathers finally and 
forever. 

“Sir,” they said, coming before the Procurator, “we 
remember that deceiver said, while he was yet alive. After 
three days I rise again. Command, therefore, that the sep- 
ulchre be made sure until the third day, lest haply his dis- 
ciples come and steal him away, and say unto the people. 
He is risen from the dead : and the last error will be Tvorse 
than the first.” 

The events of the day had troubled Pilate likewise ; his 
superstition was aroused ; besides, even more than the San- 


THE STOBY OF THE MESSIAH 


527 


hedrists did he dread any accession of fanaticism in the 
turbulent people ruled by him. 

“Take a guard, he replied curtly; “go, make it as 
sure as ye can.” 

In accordance with this order, in the evening of the fol- 
lowing day, the Sabbath then being over, the tomb was 
placed under the watch of a Roman quaternion, and the 
stone sealed by a stout cord passed around it, and fastened 
with sealing clay to the rock on either side. 

Little sleep visited the eyes of Thoma the night of the 
Sabbath. Many of his friends, after hours of weeping, fell 
into the deep slumber of exhaustion ; but for him there was 
no such relief ; his grief was voiceless, tearless, suffocating. 
He, as little as any of the followers of the crucified Jesus, 
cared to mingle with the throngs in the Temple on that 
Passover Sabbath, or to join in the synagogue services 
while the Master lay on his rocky bed in the chill and silent 
tomb. Most wearily and painfully the hours seemed to 
drag themselves along. Thoma lay on his mat, staring 
fixedly at the wall, and occasionally changing his position 
and breathing deeply, as though in great pain, Tamar, 
with loving solicitude, brought him food ; but he pushed it 
away untouched. 

Over and over he said to himself that his worst fears 
were realized. It was not enough that that small tyrant 
Antipas should crush John the Baptist, the grand prophet 
of God ; but, to complete the triumph of the powers of 
darkness, the blessed Redeemer of Israel himself had be- 
come a prey to grasping priests and self-righteous Phari- 
sees. How absurd that the son of Salmon should ever 
have dreamed of vengeance on one of the Sanhedrists for 
the ruin of his father’s house, when even the Lord’s 
Anointed had been unable to withstand their fury ! Ah ! 
but that was not true ; the Master had been abundantly 
able to withstand them, doubtless could easily have over- 


528 


EMMANUEL ; 


whelmed them ; but he would not. Unquestionably Jesus 
of Nazareth went to his death voluntarily ; for even far 
away on the slopes of Mount Hermon he had told them of 
this terrible time. Why had he come deliberately to a fate 
so clearly foreseen ? There seemed but one reply ; as the 
Lord had said, it was that the Scriptures might be fulfilled. 
But what then of those Scriptures telling of triumph and 
glory, — Scriptures in which lay the hope of Israel ? where 
was the fulfilment of them? Alas, alas! who could tell? 
But since Jesus was dead, they interested him not. His 
heart was bound beyond all severance to the beloved Lord 
lying without the walls in the dismal gloom of the sep- 
ulchre. Would to God he had been permitted to die with 
him ! 

Why did not Thoma remember his Lord’s promise of 
resurrection, as well as his prediction of death? why did 
he not recall the assurance of only the second evening be- 
fore, “Ye shall be sorrowful, but your sorrow shall be 
turned into joy ” ? Because he was in no mood for thought ; 
his ideas trooped through his mind at the suggestion, and 
under the guidance, of his grief. Thought followed feel- 
ing, instead of leading it ; his heart, rather than his intellect, 
was in control. Always there was before him the utter 
dreariness and emptiness of the days to come, in which no 
more would he look upon the dear Master’s face, no longer 
hear that voice so sweet and so commanding, never again 
know the uplifting influence of that pure and noble pres- 
ence. His cherished hopes for his^ people lay in the grave, 
entombed with the crucified Jesus. Over and over, with 
distressing and exhausting iteration, such reflections, the 
mental correlates of his anguish of heart, filed through his 
mind, till in time the power to think was gone, and he sank 
into a state of stupor, the stupor of despair. 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


529 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

EMMANUEL TRIUMPHANT.^ 

Lift your glad voices in triumph on high, 

For Jesus hath risen, and man shall not die! 

Vain were the terrors that gathered around him, 

And short the dominion of death and the grave; 

He burst from the fetters of darkness that bound him. 
Resplendent in glory, to live and to save ! 

Loud was the chorus of angels on high, — 

“ The Saviour hath risen, and man shall not die! ” 

Henry Ware, Jr. 

Y I^RY early in the morning of the first day of the 
week, while the eastern horizon was yet gray, and 
darkness still prevailed in the city streets, the 
sleepy guards of the northern city portal were surprised to 
see a group of women, closely veiled, slip by them, and, 
turning eastward with rapid steps, disappear from view. 
Scarcely were the women out of sight, when the soldiers 
were thoroughly awaked and momentarily terrified by a 
repetition of the earthquake of Friday. A few minutes later 
four other soldiers came running down from the east, glancing 
furtively over their shoulders, and, without heeding the salu- 
tations and questions of their comrades on guard, darted 
through the gate, and on toward the upper city. The women 
were Miriam of Magdala, the other Miriam, wife of Clopah, 
Salome, and Joanna ; the four flying soldiers were those of 
the watch placed before the sepulchre of Joseph of Arima- 
thma. Terror, on this memorable morning, had mastered 
even Roman discipline, — terror, partly at the earthquake, 
but more over the coming of a mighty, shining angel. 

At first the men had kept their positions from the sheer 
helplessness of fright ; but when the heavenly visitor, re- 


1 Matt, xxviii. 1-20; Luke xxiv. 1-53; John xx. 1-xxi. 23; Acts i. 3-12. 


530 


EMMANUEL ; 


moving his shining gaze from them, had with one easy 
movement rolled the great stone away from the sepulchre, 
and when, within the tomb, they had seen the rock-hewn 
chamber brilliant with a light neither of sun nor torch, 
their terror found vent in action, and they fled from the 
spot. At their approach the women, already frightened by 
the earthquake, had shrunk to one side and hidden them- 
selves in the shadow, coming out and pressing on again, 
however, with the last echo of their retreating footsteps. 
The Magdalene and her companions were on their way to 
the very tomb just deserted by the soldiers ; and, as they 
went, they questioned among themselves whom they could 
secure to roll the boulder away, that they might anoint the 
dear Lord’s body, and add their tribute to the spices with 
which it was embalmed. To their dismay and bitter grief, 
they found the stone already rolled away, and the sepulchre 
empty ; the foes of Jesus had added this last indignity, — 
they had stolen his body. After a moment’s consultation, 
choking down her sobs, the Magdalene hastened back into 
the city. 

“ They have taken away the Lord out of the tomb,” she 
cried, with panting, sobbing breath, on finding Peter and 
John, “and w'e know not where they have laid him.” 

Greatly troubled at these tidings, the two men set out 
with her for the garden and the tomb without delay. The 
city gate left behind, the disciples broke into a run in their 
anxiety, leaving Miriam far in the rear ; and John, the 
swifter-footed of the two, reaching the sepulchre first, 
stooped and looked into it. Peter, coming up immediately, 
and unrestrained by the sentiment of reverence which made 
the other hesitate to enter, brushed past, and bending down 
went into the tomb. The son of Zebedee then followed. 
They saw what Miriam in her haste had not seen, the linen 
cloths, used by them in the entombment, neatly folded, and 
laid aside, and the napkin which had been around the 


THE STOHY OF THE MESSIAH. 


531 


Lord’s head rolled up, and put in a place by itself. This 
was strange ; no one stealing a dead body would have left 
its wrappings and costly spices behind. Peter marvelled 
greatly ; John, with readier and deeper insight, connected 
the empty tomb and the carefully disposed cerements with 
the almost-forgotten declaration of his Master about the 
third day ; and, like a flash of dazzling light, came the 
conviction that Jesus had risen. With a deep gladness 
welling up within and rising into his eyes, but with silent 
lips, he followed Peter away from the garden ; possibl}’’ 
he was mistaken ; he would await confirmation of his joy- 
inspiring belief before disclosing it. 

Presently, just after the two men had gone, Miriam 
came up. There was nothing more that she could do ; so, 
giving herself up to her grief, she leaned against the rock 
and burst into a paroxysm of weeping. Some time she 
stood thus, all consciousness of other things swallowed up 
by her sorrow and despair. Not till her passionate out- 
burst had in a measure exhausted itself did it occur to 
her to stoop down and look into the sepulchre more care- 
fully. Then she was astonished to see two angels, though 
to her tearful vision they seemed but young men in fine 
clothing, seated, one at the head, one at the foot, of the 
niche in which Jesus had been laid. 

“ Woman, why weepest thou?” asked one of them. 

“ Because they have taken away my Lord, and I know 
not where they have laid him.” 

Hearing steps beside her, she turned about and found 
herself face to face with another stranger. 

“ Woman, why weepest thou ? whom seekest thou?” he 
said. 

“ Sir,” she cried passionately, taking him for the gar- 
dener, and turning away to hide her face, “ if thou hast 
borne him hence, tell me where thou hast laid him, and I 
will take him away.” 


532 


EMMANUEL ; 


“ Miriam ! ’’ 

“ O my Master ! ’’ the woman broke forth, turning again 
instantly in mingled amazement and ecstasy ; for it was 
the risen, the transformed, Christ who stood before her. 

Seeing her about to touch him to assure herself that the 
blessed appearance was real, and not a mere vision, the 
Lord checked her, giving her at the same time the desired 
assurance by look and tone. 

“ Take not hold on me,’’ he said; “ for I am not yet 
ascended unto the Father : but go unto my brethren, and 
say to them, I ascend unto my Father and your Father, 
and my God and your God.” 

The Lord did not forbid the touch of reverence ; but the 
old freedom of intercourse was not to be resumed till the 
disciples, like their Lord, had triumphed over death, and 
ascended with him to his Father and their Father. 

The overjoyed woman, her fair face now aglow with a 
light quite other than that of the sun’s rays just beginning 
to stream over Olivet, dashed the tears from her ej^es, and 
departed in haste to do the Master’s bidding. At the gate 
of the garden she met her companions of the early dawn. 

These, during her absence, while waiting by the sepulchre 
much perplexed and distressed, had been suddenly terrified 
by the appearance of two men with shining countenances, 
and white and dazzling apparel. Not doubting that the 
strangers were angels, they fell on their faces to the 
earth. 

“ Fear not ye,” said one of the shining pair: “ ye seek 
Jesus, the Nazarene, who hath been crucified. Why seek 
ye the living among the dead ? he is risen ; he is not here : 
behold, the place where they laid him ! But go, tell his 
disciples and Peter, He is risen from the dead ; and lo, he 
goeth before you into Galilee ; there shall ye see him, as he 
said unto you.” 

Thus enjoined, the three women, in great fear, and 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


533 


saying nothing to any one, hastened with all speed to the 
apostles in the city, with whom, on their return from the 
sepulchre, Peter and John found them. But to the eleven, 
John only excepted, their story seemed utterly incredible. 
Jesus risen from the dead? Thoma shook his head sadly ; 
would to God it were true ; but the thing was impossible. 
There was but One who had power to raise the dead, and 
that One was himself in the grave. Sad, bitter, cruel, was 
the fact ; but fact it was : Jesus was dead. Well did the 
disciple from Ephraim know how cold and lifeless was the 
Master’s form when laid in the tomb. The women had 
seen some vision ; or they had taken their longings and 
dreams for realities. And so reasoned the others. It was 
the general opinion that the body of Jesus had been stolen 
by his foes ; and, in consequence, it was arranged that 
certain of the disciples should .acquaint Joseph and Nak- 
dimon with the fact, in the hope that the latter might be 
able to discover its new resting-place. 

The women, finding their testimony thus discredited, 
took leave of the eleven without waiting for the close of 
the latter’s discussion, and by a natural impulse returned 
to the garden. At its entrance they met Miriam of 
Magdala coming toward them with rapid feet and shining 
face. 

“ I have seen the Lord,” was her glad cry. 

Briefly then, and as connectedly as she could, in reply to 
their excited questions, she told her story. In return, as 
they walked toward the city, they were about to relate 
what they had seen and heard, when they were brought to 
a standstill by the Lord himself, immediately in front of 
them. 

“ All hail ! ” he said, in the well-remembered voice. 

It was the same Jesus, truly, — the same Jesus in form 
and feature that they had known and loved ; yet not the 
same. Bound to him with tenderest cords of affection they 


534 


EMMANUEL ; 


were, as of old ; but mingled with their love was more of 
awe than ever, — an awe verging upon fear. At once jo}^- 
fully and reverently they bowed before him, and clasped 
his feet. 

“Fear not,” said Jesus, gently disengaging himself: 
“go, tell my brethren that they depart into Galilee, and 
there shall they see me.” 

When they looked up the Lord was gone. 

“ I have seen the Lord,” was the Magdalene’s excited 
greeting, as a little later she burst into the room where 
several of the apostles were still collected, — John and 
Thoma, however, not being of the number. 

Her companions bearing the same testimony, and incre- 
dulity finally beginning to give way to wonder and the be- 
ginnings of hope, the men now lost no time in making 
their way out to the garden ; but they saw there just what 
the two apostles had seen earlier in the morning, and no 
more. To men had been granted the more constant com- 
panionship of the Messiah during his ministry ; to women 
was shown superior honour by the risen Christ. Not till 
evening did Simon Peter receive that for which he longed, 
and which as yet he was not fully prepared to believe pos- 
sible, — a sight of his risen Lord. As the day was draw- 
ing toward its close, the disciple who had erred so sadly 
and repented so bitterly was met by the Master ; and from 
that meeting Simon came forth a changed man. Upon 
looking into the face of Jesus, beautiful, majestic, and 
gracious, doubt and lurking fear were lost in the blessed- 
ness of full belief and assured forgiveness. Very tenderly, 
as he knelt and clasped the crucified feet, did the Lord bid 
him be of good cheer, and doubt and fear no more. 

Meanwhile Asahel and Alphmus, also known as Clopah, 
and father of two of the apostles, — James the less and his 
brother Judah, — had occasion to go out to the village of 
Emmaus, some seven or eight miles from the Holy City. 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


535 


They started in the middle of the afternoon and walked 
slowly, conversing as they went. With the incredulity of 
the other disciples they had listened to the women’s story 
of the angels and their message ; consequently, though 
they spoke of it once or twice, their thoughts and words 
were mainly about the death of their Lord. After a time 
a stranger overtook them, and saluted them in a friendly 
way, receiving, however, no very cordial salutation in 
return ; for a stranger might prove a foe. 

“ What communications,” inquired the new-comer, “ are 
these that ye have one with another, as ye walk ? ” 

The two halted ; and the question bringing up again 
their great grief, they looked at their questioner with sad 
countenances. 

“ Dost thou alone sojourn in Jerusalem,” returned Clo- 
pah, “and not know the things which are come to pass 
there in these days ? ” 

“ What things? ” 

“ The things concerning Jesus of Nazareth, who was a 
prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the 
people : and how the chief priests and our rulers delivered 
him up to be condemned to death, and crucified him. But 
we hoped that it was he that should redeem Israel. Yea, 
and beside all this, it is now the third day since these 
things came to pass. Moreover, certain of our women 
amazed us, having been early at the tomb ; and when they 
found not his body, they came, saying, that they had also 
seen a vision of angels, who said that he was alive. And 
certain of them that were with us went to the tomb, and 
found it even so as the women had said ; but,” very sadly, 
“ him they saw not.” 

As the two disciples looked upon the stranger, they were 
impressed with his noble aspect ; but they were not pre- 
pared for his thrilling reply. 

“O foolish men,” he exclaimed, “ and slow of heart to 


536 


EMMANUEL ; 


believe in all that the prophets have spoken ! Behooved 
it not the Christ to suffer these things, and to enter into 
his glory ? ” 

To their no small wonder the stranger, as he walked on 
with them, proceeded to cite scripture after scripture, from 
the time of Moses to that of Malachi, pointing clearly to 
the very events over which they were sorrowing. On 
reaching Emmaus the two, now deeply interested in their 
new acquaintance, besought the latter to go no farther 
that night. 

“ Abide with us,” said Clopah : “ for it is toward even- 
ing, and the day is now far spent.” 

The invitation was accepted, and, as the sun was kind- 
ling with its last ruddy beams the neighbouring hill-tops, 
the three sat down to eat together. But the stranger proved 
host rather than guest. He took the loaf of bread, and, 
after returning thanks, distributed to the two. The latter, 
however, did not eat. An overwhelming disclosure had 
come to them ; the stranger was the Lord himself. Before 
they could find utterance and greet him, the Master had 
vanished. 

“Was not our heart burning within us,” cried Asahel 
rapturously, recovering from his astoundment, “ while he 
spake to us in the way, while he opened to us the Scrip- 
tures?” 

Their glorious discovery must not be kept from the 
eleven ; they must not pass another night mourning over 
a dead Christ and the supposed profanation of his tomb. 
With utmost haste and joyful hearts they retraced their 
steps, and some two hours later entered the room at Jeru- 
salem where all but one of the apostles and many of the 
other disciples were gathered. Here they encountered 
none of the incredulity so general earlier in the day ; on 
the contrary, the substance of their own story was antici- 
pated in the joyful cry which met them on the threshold. 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


537 


“ The Lord is risen indeed, and hath appeared to 
Simon.” 

Then, with many thanksgivings, and an exultation too 
deep for adequate expression, Clopah and Asahel recounted 
the events of the evening. Scarcely were the recitals con- 
cluded, when a hush of awe, indeed of terror, fell upon 
the company ; for the Master himself stood in the midst 
of them. There was terror, not only because the most of 
those present had last seen Jesus dead, on the cross or in 
the tomb, but because all knew that the doors had been 
carefully barred to exclude any lurking spy of the Sanhe- 
drin. This, therefore, must be the Lord’s spirit. 

“ Peace be unto you,” said Jesus in the familiar and be- 
loved accents. 

Still silence prevailed ; men could not believe their ears. 

“Why are ye troubled?” continued the Master, “and 
wherefore do questionings arise in your hearts? See my 
hands and my feet,” disclosing the nail-pierced members, 
“ that it is I myself : handle me, and see ; for a spirit hath 
not flesh and bones, as ye see me having.” 

Incredulity retreated before these words, and the sight 
of the wounded hands and feet ; but it did not entirely dis- 
appear ; the apparent fact was too wonderful, too blessed, 
to be readily received. 

“ Have ye here anything to eat? ” asked Jesus. 

A piece of broiled fish was handed to him, and eaten by 
him in the sight of all. No one could doubt longer ; no one 
felt constrained to set bounds to his gladness. The Master 
was with them again in the body. 

“Peace be unto you,” repeated Jesus: “ as the Father 
hath sent me, even so send I you.” Then, breathing upon 
them, ‘ ‘ Receive ye the Holy Spirit : whose soever sins ye 
forgive, they are forgiven unto them ; whose soever sins ye 
retain, they are retained.” 

A moment later the Lord was gone. 


638 


EMMANUEL ; 


Thoma was not present at this memorable scene. Be- 
yond any of the apostles did he find it difficult, in fact 
impossible, to receive the stories about the risen Lord. He 
did, indeed, visit the sepulchre, and marvel that the cere- 
ments and valuable spices had been left behind by the 
supposed abductors ; but he only shook his head mournfully 
when the possibility of a resurrection was suggested to him. 
No man, he maintained, could raise himself from the grave. 
In the evening he shut himself up with his grief and de- 
spair, and in consequence for some time knew nothing of 
what was happening to his comrades, his first information 
coming in the excited announcement with which, late in the 
evening, Asahel burst in upon him. 

“We have seen the Lord,” cried the latter jubilantly: 
“he is risen, Judah ; he is risen. Blessed be the Lord God 
of Israel ! ” 

“ How now, my brother? ” said Thoma in astonishment, 
“ hast thou, too, seen visions of angels? ” 

“ Nay, Judah ; but I have seen the Master.” 

“Except I shall see in his hands the print of the nails, 
and put my finger into the print of the nails, and put my 
hand into his side, I will not believe.” 

But the doubting disciple was not so incredulous as he 
seemed. Could it be possible after all? was his secret 
thought. It was not easy for him to believe in such a 
stupendous event as the Lord’s resurrection ; but the con- 
current and independent testimony of so many witnesses 
was having its effect. When, with the eagerness of the 
bearer of glad tidings, Asahel related the occurrences of 
the afternoon and evening, his brother scanned his face 
most searchingly, and finally hope sprang up in the breast 
of Thoma. “God grant it be all real!” he said at the 
end. 

During the week that followed, — for the eleven, under- 
standing the Lord’s command to go into Galilee to mean 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


539 


after the close of the feast, did not leave Jerusalem imme- 
diately, — hope and despair, belief and doubt, alternated 
in Thoma’s mind. One thing in that week became very 
clear to him, — clearer to him through his very question- 
ing, than to most of the eleven ; if Jesus was risen, he was 
of far lotier st ation than hey had hitherto realized ; he 
was far more than the Redeemer of Israel. If really in the 
flesh again, it was either because his soul was so uncon- 
querable that even death could not master it, or because 
God, by a marvellous and unparalleled intervention, had 
raised him from the grave. In either case, he was mani- 
festly the Son of God ; in either case here was a divine 
ratification of those high claims made by Jesus which the 
Pharisees had deemed blasphemous, and the disciples 
themselves incomprehensible. If the Lord was risen, 
Thoma would no longer think with reluctance of his for- 
giveness of sins, nor ponder with painful perplexity over 
the words, “I and the Father are one.” 

That first Easter day, whose hours brought joy and hope 
to the followers of the Master, was one of gloom and dread 
to the Sanhedrist conspirators. The story and the mani- 
fest terror of the soldiers, coming after the earthquake of 
the morning and the fearful signs of Friday, filled them 
with dismay. What would happen next? Was some 
judgment to come upon them? True to false instincts to 
the last, however, they bribed the guard to conceal the 
events of the Easter dawn. 

“ Say ye,” so ran their instructions, “ His disciples came 
by night, and stole him away while we slept. And if this 
come to the governor’s ears, we will persuade him, and rid 
you of care.” 

“Not a very probable story in the case of a Roman 
quaternion ; but at least it served the end of the rulers of 
Israel better than the truth. 

The feast not closing till the day before the Sabbath, it 


640 


EMMANUEL ; 


was originally planned to depart for Galilee on the first 
day of the following week ; but the sons of Zebedee, with 
a fine insight, advised the delay of one day more. They 
called the attention of their fellows to the fact that all the 
Lord’s appearances had taken place on the first day of the 
week, and suggested that he might honour the next first 
day in like manner. Their surmise was well founded. 
With doors closed and barred as before, the whole company 
of the disciples on this second Sunday were gathered to- 
gether ; and while they waited, hoping for the coming of 
the Lord, he appeared amidst them. 

“ Peace be unto you,” was his cheerful greeting. Then, 
in gentle rebuke, turning to Thoma, “ Reach hither thy 
finger, and see my hands ; and reach hither thy hand, and 
put it into my side : and be not faithless, but believing.” 

“ My Lord and my God,” said the no longer doubting 
disciple in a low, awe-stricken voice, making no movement 
toward compliance with the Master’s invitation ; for doubt 
and grief alike were gone from the son of Salmon from the 
moment that he looked again into the eyes of his Lord. 

“ Because thou hast seen me,” said Jesus gently, “ thou 
hast believed : blessed are they that have not seen, and 
yet have believed.” 

Faith came slowly to Thoma ; but it was deep and 
abiding. From that hour he possessed an understanding 
of the real nature of his Lord which was gained by some 
of his fellows only gradually, and after the lapse of 
years. 


Over a fortnight later, just before evening, a number of 
the apostles — Peter, Thoma, Nathanael, the sons of Zeb- 
edee, and two others — were seated by the Sea of Galilee, 
not far from Capernaum. They had been talking, at first 
of the derision they were subject to in the town from the 
rabble and the Pharisees for having followed a Teacher 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


541 


who finally perished on the shameful cross ; then of the 
Lord’s delay in manifesting himself to them. Day by 
day, fellow-disciples, believing and doubtful, hearing of 
Jesus’ resurrection and his promised appearance in Galilee, 
were gathering at the lake. Already their number was 
considerable ; and yet the Master had given no hint as to 
where and when he would reveal himself. 

“ I go a-fishing,” said Peter presently, starting to his 
feet. 

“We also come with thee,” was the response of his 
comrades. 

It was not their first enterprise of the kind since arriv- 
ing in Galilee ; for most of the eleven had small means of 
livelihood beside their own labour. This night their efforts 
proved fruitless ; when the first gray light of day began 
to appear above the dark, level tops of the eastern cliffs, 
they had caught nothing, and were about to return to the 
town in disappointment. 

“Children, have ye aught to eat?” called out a soli- 
tary stranger, just barely discernible on the not-distant 
beach. 

“ No,” said Peter. 

“ Cast the net on the right side of the boat, and ye shall 
find,” came to them over the quiet water. 

Mechanically the fishermen obeyed, though not without 
surprise that the unknown man on the shore should see 
signs of fish that were not visible to themselves. At the 
first cast their net was filled ; indeed, they could not draw 
it into the boat. 

“ It is the Lord,” said John with awe. 

All felt the truth of the words ; for the thoughts of all 
went back to the other miraculous draught of fish on that 
same shore. Peter, in his excitement, girded about him 
the fisher’s coat which he had thrown aside while at work, 
and casting himself into the water swam to the shore, and ran 


542 


EMMANUEL ; 


forward to the feet of Jesus. The others, with equal glad- 
ness if with less vehemence, came in with the boat, drag- 
ging the net after them. They found a fish, broiling over 
a fire of coals, and a loaf of bread awaiting them. 

“ Bring of the fish which ye have now taken,” said the 
Lord quietly, that there might be provision for all. 

Peter sprang to the little vessel, and, with some help 
from his comrades, drew the net ashore unbroken, not- 
withstanding a hundred and fifty-three fish were enclosed 
by it. 

“ Come, and break your fast,” said Jesus simply and 
cordially, as soon as the fish were ready for eating. 

They reclined on the beach together, the Master giving 
thanks, and distributing the bread and fish among them. 
Silence reigned at first ; for the disciples’ awe of their 
Lord verged upon fear. Finally Jesu§ himself spoke 
again, appointing a day on which he would meet them and 
all the disciples, and designating as the place of meeting 
that particular mountain side where he had given his mem- 
orable sermon beginning, “ Blessed are the poor in spirit.” 
The meal over, the Master turned to Peter. 

“ Simon, son of Jonah, lovest thou me more than 
these ? ” 

Peter knew himself better now than on the night of the 
Passover ; he no longer felt ready to protest, “ Although 
all shall be offended, yet will not I.” 

“Yea, Lord, thou knowest that I love thee,” he re- 
turned, substituting for the word for love used by Jesus 
another of less noble and more strictly human associa- 
tions. 

“ Feed my lambs.” 

After a few minutes the question was repeated. 

“ Simon, son of Jonah, lovest thou me? ” 

“ Yea, Lord,” said Peter, using the same word as before, 
“ thou knowest that I love thee.” 


THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH. 


543 


“ Tend my sheep. 

A third time the question was asked, but at last with the 
adoption of Peter’s more lowly word for love. 

“ Sunon, son of Jonah, lovest thou me? ” 

“ Lord,” exclaimed the penitent disciple, with mingled 
grief and tenderness, “ thou knowest all things ; thou 
knowest that I love thee.” 

“ Feed my sheep.” Then, sorrowfully and affection- 
ately, “Verily, verily, I say unto thee. When thou wast 
young, thou girdest thyself, and walkedst whither thou 
would est : but when thou shalt be old, thou shalt stretch 
forth thy hands, and another shall gird thee, and carry thee 
whither thou wouldest not.” 

Peter never forgot this intimation of the character of his 
life’s close ; nor did he ever repine over it. 

“ Follow me,” said Jesus, turning away from the com- 
pany. 

As he went, Simon caught sight of John following, also. 

“ Lord, and what shall this man do?” he inquired, full 
of curiosity as to the future. 

Kind, but firm, was the answer : — 

“ If I will that he tarry till I come, what is that to thee? 
Follow thou me.” 

In after days this utterance was the basis of the wide- 
spread but erroneous belief that to John it had been 
granted to live till the Lord’s second coming. 

The followers of Jesus continued to gather in Caper- 
naum ; and, when the appointed day arrived, over five 
hundred issued from the town, and climbed the mountain 
to meet their Lord. Reaching the little plain interrupting 
the slope, they looked around eagerly, yet awesomely ; and 
they did not look in vain. A little farther up the moun- 
tain side they saw the Master coming to meet them. It 
was the same Master evidently whom they had loved and 


544 


EMMANUEL ; 


followed, and yet quite as evidently not the same, but 
changed, transformed, by some wonderful accession of 
power, majesty, and beauty. Instinctively all prostrated 
themselves in worship, — some, it is true, still questioning 
whether their eyes were to be trusted, — Jesus meanwhile 
came forward, and saluted them graciously and cordially. 
He spoke to them then, recalling to their minds the predic- 
tions of the prophets, and pointing out that all their doubt 
and despair had come from their own blindness, not in the 
least from any failure in the divine promises regarding the 
Messiah. 

“These are my words,” he said, “which I spake unto 
you while I was yet with you, how that all things must 
needs be fulfilled which are written in the Law of Moses, 
and the Prophets, and the Psalms, concerning me. Thus 
it is written that the Christ should suffer, and rise again 
from the dead the third day ; and that repentance and re- 
mission of sins should be preached in his name unto all the 
nations, beginning from Jerusalem. Ye are witnesses of 
these things. 

“All authority hath been given unto me in heaven and 
on earth,” he said in conclusion, with truly sovereign air. 
“ Go ye, therefore, and make disciples of all the nations, 
baptizing them into the name of the Father and of the Son 
and of the Holy Spirit : teaching them to observe all things 
whatsoever I commanded you. He that belie veth and is 
baptized shall be saved ; but he that disbelieveth shall be 
condemned. And these signs shall follow them that be- 
lieve : in my name shall they cast out demons ; they shall 
speak with new tongues ; they shall take up serpents, and 
if they drink any deadly thing, it shall in no wise hurt 
them ; they shall lay hands on the sick, and they shall re- 
cover. And lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end 
of the world.” 


TUE STORY OF TUE MESSIAH. 


545 


Ten days passed away, and again the eleven, and the 
other more devoted disciples, men and women, were gath- 
ered in an upper room in the Holy City. Among them 
now were not only Miriam and her daughter, the mother 
and sister of Jesus, but the Lord’s brethren also. The 
latter, with a new humility of bearing, had joined the 
apostolic company as it was leaving Galilee, declaring 
themselves finally believers in their brother’s Messiahship. 
The risen Lord himself, they explained with shining faces, 
had appeared to James, the oldest of them; and their in- 
credulity and their trouble alike were over. 

While with many a surmise, now vague, now bold, the 
disciples in this upper room were busy discussing the time 
and the manner of the coming of the kingdom, suddenly 
the Lord stood once more in the midst of them. After the 
first words of greeting he announced that they were to ac- 
company him to a spot without the city walls. With 
utmost alacrity, but with silent lips, they followed their 
Master through the streets, — where Israelites failed to 
recognize him even as their descendants have so generally 
failed in the ages since, — out of the city gate, and over 
to the farther side of the Mount of Olives. There, on a 
spur out of sight from the city, though little, orchard-sur- 
rounded Bethany could be seen beyond and below, Jesus 
halted, and looked around affectionately upon his follow- 
ers. With keen expectancy the latter watched their Lord. 

“Behold,” said he presently, not without an 'accent of 
sadness, “ I send forth the promise of my Father upon 
you, which ye heard from me : for John indeed baptized 
with water ; but ye shall be baptized with the Holy Spirit 
not many days hence. But tarry ye in the city, until ye 
be clothed with power from on high.” 

To the half-enlightened minds of the disciples it seemed 
that these words must refer to the promised days of vie- 


546 


EMMANUEL ; 


“ Lord,’" they said, “dost thou at this time restore the 
kingdom to Israel ? ” 

“ It is not for you,” said Jesus, “ to know times or sea- 
sons, which the Father hath set within His own authority. 
But ye shall receive power when the Holy Spirit is come 
upon you: and ye shall be my witnesses both in Jerusa- 
lem, and in all Judaea and Samaria, and unto the utter- 
most part of the earth.” 

Jesus raised his hands and pronounced a final benedic- 
tion upon them ; and as he did so, and while all eyes were 
fixed upon him, he rose from the earth, mounting steadily 
higher as they gazed, until a cloud received him out of 
their sight. And still the wondering disciples looked up- 
ward into the heavens. What did this mean? What 
would happen next ? Whither had the Lord gone ? Sud- 
denly they were conscious of the presence of two men ar- 
rayed in shining white, and of angelic voices speaking to 
them. 

“Ye men of Galilee,” ran the words, “ why stand ye 
looking up into heaven? This Jesus, who was received up 
from you into heaven, shall so come in like manner as ye 
beheld him going into heaven.” 

And still, after the lapse of eighteen centuries, the disci- 
ples of the Master look up toward heaven, seek to penetrate 
with their gaze the cloud which has received their Lord 
out of their sight, and join with the youngest of the eleven 
in the fervent appeal, “Even so, come. Lord Jesus.” 
But while they look and long, they forget not the Com- 
forter, present with them through the absence of the Mas- 
ter, and remember that — 

“ Gales from heaven, if so He will, 

Sweeter melodies can wake 
On the lonely mountain rill 
Than the meeting waters make.” 


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